Top of the World
by 2theSky
Summary: The A-Team has just been approached with a high-paying job, and they aren't about to let it slip through their fingers. But Murdock is sure something isn't quite right with this mission, especially after overhearing one of their client's phone calls. (Set after "Curtain Call")
1. Prologue

"But Murdock never showed any signs of-"

Face wanted to sigh at how annoying this nurse at the VA was being. She was new, stunning, and far too inquisitive for his taste. He cut off her constant stream of questions with, "Well, the tests showed it, and the tests were sent to our facility as an alert. Now, if you please, I need to see this man immediately!"

"Who are you with again?" They were finally nearing Murdock's room; it seemed like this scam would take a century… if it hadn't already, thanks to blasted Bonnie's (that was her name) blabbermouth.

"The Government Institute of Cerebral Anomaly-"

"I don't know about this, Mr. Abrams," the nurse pressed hesitantly, wringing her manicured hands as they stopped at Murdock's door, a "Do Not Disturb" sign written hastily in crayon taped to the door. "This isn't protocol-"

"I'm well aware of your protocol, but I'm with the government, the guys in Washington. Now ma'am, this man is showing signs of astronomical mental issues, including multiple deciduous personality disorder." The woman had bought this line… apparently not burning with a bright enough bulb in the upstairs attic to know Face had basically said Murdock had "multiple leaf-shedding tree personality disorder".

She bit her cherry red bottom lip, her permed blonde hair swishing as she turned her head and opened the door for Face. He stepped inside and gasped dramatically. "My word, it's worse than I ever theorized!"

Murdock lay on his bed, a box of crayons strewn about the room, all broken and unwrapped. Construction paper with advanced math equations littered the floor, and Murdock was… hugging something invisible.

Oh boy…

"Murdock?"

Murdock looked up at Face slowly, grinning instantly. "Hello there," he greeted in a creepy, five year old voice. "Did ya bring me and Mr. Teddy candy? I like candy! I really like candy! 'Specially from strangers! On the street! In big scary vans…"

Face shook his head at Murdock's bumbling on about candy. "This man is in horrible condition. I MUST take him with me!"

"F-fine." The nurse surrendered and left to wheel in a wheelchair.

Murdock glanced at the door as she left, dropping his act and sitting up, brushing off the crayon shavings and wrappers. "Okay, what's up? You guys called here at one in the morning! The stupid phone woke up the whole wing!"

"Sorry about waking up the loony bin!" Face glanced around. No one was listening… unless Decker-

"No bugs. Checked." Murdock pulled off his shoe to reveal a crushed baggie of metal and wire. "I squashed it good."

Face grinned. "We got an offer."

"Offer? What offer?" Murdock tugged on his shoe and grabbed his jacket, ready to bolt after Decker's visit.

"From a guy north of here, near Bad Rock."

Murdock shook his head. "And just what on God's green earth warrants you whackos disturbin' the peace and love vibe goin' through here at unholy hours?!"

"He's paying twenty-five thousand dollars, plus five thousand for each of us."

Murdock whistled lowly. "Why so much?"

Face shrugged. "Not sure. We're meeting him tonight."

"What disguise is Hannibal usin'?"

"I believe the handy dandy ol' gas station owner."

Murdock's eyes widened. "Aw, Face!" He waved his hands around. "That one stinks! Last time we used that we reeled in a bunch of MPs! Walked smack-" he smacked his hands together for emphasis "-into a trap! This one always brings bad luck our way!"

"Hopefully not this time." Face looked up at the sound of the nurse returning and Murdock jumped up onto his bed, standing and shouting at the top of his lungs.

"I SAY, YOU PEASANT! BOW BEFORE YOUR KING!" Murdock's heavy British accent sounded regal, and quite frightening, and the nurse gaped as she wordlessly handed off the wheelchair.

"Thanks, doll." Face handed her a clipboard and a pen. "Just sign this."

The nurse shakily signed and handed over the paper like it was on fire. She bolted as Face got Murdock into the chair, his shouts quieting down to normal tone as he grumbled about throwing lazy servants in stocks and being pelted with rotten tomatoes.

As soon as they were outside, Murdock got into B.A.'s van tucked close to the curb and he dropped the act again. "Heya, guys." He settled in his seat, wincing slightly; it had been three weeks since he'd been shot, and his shoulder and chest still ached at times. But he was doing far better than before, so the Captain figured he'd take what he could get.

Hannibal flicked open his lighter. "Face fill you in?"

Murdock nodded. "Yeah, uh, but Colonel-"

"Man, shut up!" B.A. thundered, turning in the driver's seat. "Why'd we hafta drag this nut along wit' us? He's gonna botch the whole thing with his crazy talk!"

"Now, B.A., I know you think my questionable sanity is a problem, but trust me, I will help us pursue victory, justice, and peace for the citizens of Camelot!"

Hannibal raised one eyebrow? "Face, what's this about Camelot?"

Face just shrugged.

Murdock grinned, enthusiastically jumping into an explanation. "Camelot! The great land where the legend of King Arthur begins!"

"Oh brother…" Face shook his head. So the tick this time was Arthurian legend.

Just wait, Murdock would start roleplaying as Arthur anytime now.

"With knights!" Murdock continued, gesturing as if slashing at an imaginary foe with Excalibur, "and dragons! And magic!"

B.A. started the van and glared back at Murdock. "Listen, fool, if you don't shut up, I'll send you crazy mind to Camelot and they can keep ya!"

"My unique mind would be appreciated there!" Murdock grinned, bouncing in his seat.

Face chuckled. "While you're there, see if Merlin can cast a spell and make B.A. not mind flying."

"Flying?" B.A. growled. "We flying?!"

"Now B.A.," Hannibal placated. "No one said we were flying anywhere."

"GOOD!" B.A. pulled out into traffic and started driving towards Littleford on the outskirts of Bad Rock; Littleford was bigger than Bad Rock, almost a city that didn't match up in size with its name.

Face just tapped Hannibal's shoulder and fished a vial and syringe out of his inner suit pocket; the client had mentioned possible travel out of state, so why not be prepared?

Hannibal smirked and nodded, taking another puff of his cigar as Murdock skeptically watched the other three men.

Something just…

This didn't seem quite right.

"I will seek the truth," he mumbled under his breath for only his ears to hear, "I will seek out the source of the darkness surrounding this mission. For Camelot!"

* * *

 _-this was just a random idea of mine; i've been watching a lot of the A-team lately, and i really wanted to write a story for it. this is my first time, so two things: 1) please let me know how i'm doing… and 2) sorry for any typos :(_

 _if you do decide to review, thank you very much! :)_

 _have an awesome day and God bless! :)_


	2. On Top of the World

"That's him."

Face glanced out from his post behind a grove of trees about thirty feet from the gas station; in all honesty, it was abandoned. A fresh coat of paint and a hose down of all the cobwebs, and it was in perfect shape.

Hannibal's voice crackled over the walkie again, this time saying, "B.A., how'd those checks on his fingerprints from the Chinese restaurant come out?"

"He's clean. But Hannibal, this dude's with the government!"

Hannibal nodded, though all the other three heard was, "I know. But this job could set us up for a while if it's legitimate. Just double check those read-outs."

Face sighed, finger curling over the machine gun's trigger out of habit. He felt a little on edge about this job, but nowhere near the skyrocketing paranoia levels Murdock was complaining of. Maybe it was just because he'd gotten shot on the last mission he'd been on…

The job offer at hand was surprisingly easy. At least, on paper.

This agent was seeking out the A-Team to track down a stalker. He said he and his team of five other highly trained veterans turned government agents (they were definitely more covert than anything, if their records were anything to go off of) had been on countless foreign relations missions, and they were sure this stalker was trying to get their information from these missions to sell to the highest bidder. All their missions were locked away under countless streams of red tape and computer codes, passwords at every turn.

This person had to be stopped in order to keep these records from being leaked.

It was the man's theory that even more so than the foreign country information, the person's target was all the data his team gathered on U.S. leaders stationed in other countries.

National security was at risk.

Murdock, on the way to the gas station scam, had asked the one thing about this whole set-up that bugged Face:

"Why didn't he just call in the Marines or something? This IS a government issue, after all."

Hannibal, for once, wasn't sure himself of an answer, and shrugged. Finally, he came off with, "Maybe there's more to this than meets the eye. But," his uncertainty was instantly gone as he smirked, his blue eyes gleaming with mischief and glee as he said, "I do like a challenge."

Now, though, a red Trans-Am rolled into the gas station lot and pulled right alongside the pump. There was no gas; it was all for show.

Hannibal was seated on a chair that was just as rickety as the ramshackle hut behind him. Dusted down in faded overalls and a stained flannel, and with a wide brimmed hat swooping a shadow over his face, Hannibal looked up slowly and watched as a tall man with slicked black hair that was just starting to grey from his dangerous occupation stepped from his car and proceeded to walk up to him with a five dollar bill. "Here…" His eyes were a cold blue, almost dark, and a little unnerving. But Hannibal just kept a straight face under the itchy face beard hiding his face from the world and the man returned to the only pump, trying for a few minutes to get it to pump even a drop of gas.

Now Hannibal stood, pretending to have aching joints. "Ah, sorry, sonny," he wheezed out, coughing around the dusty air. "We're all outta gas."

The man, about forty-five or fifty in looks (fifty-one, according to his files) looked up incredulously. "Really? Why didn't you tell me that when I paid you?"

Hannibal shrugged. "Didn't ask."

"Unbelievable." The guy looked a bit flustered, which almost made Hannibal grin. Almost. He did have an appearance to keep up. "Do you happen to know where the next gas station is? Or are they out of gas too, pal?"

"No need ta be testy, boy," Hannibal slurred, stepping up to him as the earpiece in his ear rang out with B.A.'s final search results.

"He's clean."

A quick glance around and Hannibal stood a little straighter. "So… I hear you're looking' for this uh… A-Team."

The man's eyes narrowed dangerously, like he wouldn't hesitate to strangle this bum on the spot for his knowledge. "I don't know what you're talking about," the clean-shaven agent spat.

Hannibal shook his head. "Yeah," he pulled off the hat, wig, and beard, "I think you do."

The client's eyes widened. "You're-"

"Hannibal Smith. Pleased to meet you and your lack of patience with elderly gas station owners. You've just hired the A-Team."

* * *

 **(at the same time, in Littleford)**

"Where is it?"

A dark figure hunched over a computer, neglecting the chair pulled close to the desk it sat on. Their fingers furiously pounded on the keys, their foot tapping impatiently.

They didn't have time for this!

They needed the stupid file the last time! It was so massive it hadn't loaded, and they'd been forced to bolt as someone spotted them and decided to greet them with a round of bullets as they fled.

This time they couldn't mess this up.

"Come on, come on…" the hoarse whisper cut through the noonday air as the file finally loaded. "Thank God!" came the quiet exclamation as they pulled a camera from their black jacket pocket, snapping two shots of each screen of the fifty page file.

Each click of the camera meant time was running out, and as they neared the final shot needed, footsteps echoed overhead in the next floor up of the five floor building; these government guys were loaded from their work, if being able to afford this place, for not only lodging but also their insane stash of gear, was anything to go by. They hurriedly snapped the last shot and backtracked to the homescreen of the computer, shutting it off and running just as the door to the dark room opened, only to shut as no one was seen.

It didn't matter if they could access the computer's history now.

They'd gotten what they'd come for and escaped with a gold mine of information.

Now…

they just had to play this right.

* * *

 _\- sorry for any mistakes or typos :(  
_

 _thanks, LAGC, Aurora Lenore, and Rynn Wolfe for reviewing! :) it means a lot to me :)_


	3. On Top of it All

"Matt's back."

The A-Team walked in behind Matthew Sommers, the client who'd been a bit brash towards Hannibal's older facade. He walked with a military man's stride, and his fists were clenched. They were met as soon as they stepped into the five floor complex by five other men. All five were dressed in darker tones, much like Sommers. Three were Caucasian, two with dirty blonde hair and similarly squinting eyes. One's face bore the traces of a Hispanic streak, slightly short and wiry. Another's skin matched B.A.'s, and his build was shorter but close to B.A.'s as well.

Murdock looked over them all. Something just screamed with bright neon lights and flashing signs that read "THIS IS A BAD IDEA". For a second all six men in front of him were transformed into chainmail clad and sword-carrying knights, and Murdock briefly wondered if this were to be Camelot, would these men be the good guys? Or the baddies?

"What's up?" Matthew immediately noticed something was up, as did Hannibal and the other A-team members; Tania was still on her way, something about a sick relative.

"They got in."

Matthew cursed loudly. "And?"

All there was was silence as one man, the wiry olive-toned one, stepped forward with a sheath of readouts. Sommers looked them over hurriedly and glared at his men. "How did this happen?"

Hannibal took a step and pulled out a cigar as Face took the readouts for himself, skimming through them. "Are we missing something here?"

Matthew's glare only hardened. "Our little stalker got in. And… got away with a classified file."

The readouts were a bunch of code and nonsense on the first three pages, but before Face could go further, Sommers rudely snatched them back. He wrote it off as anger… but something did seem a bit odd.

And Face couldn't help but wonder why, even if they didn't contact the government, this elite team didn't pursue and capture their stalker themselves?

It wasn't quite adding up.

But as their finance expert…

this was a big score.

So who was Face to complain? He'd wait a little longer and see if his own suspicions were warranted.

Hannibal took a deep puff from his cigar. "Do any of you know this stalker personally?"

"No." Matt glared at the ground. "I'll tell you one thing, though. They're fast. Only way they got past us with this information."

"So now there's a countdown till auction on that info?" Face inquired, straightening his shirt collar out of habit; the grey dress shirt was a little drab for his taste, but it was what he'd grabbed this morning, so he'd make do.

"Unfortunately." Hannibal looked at his watch. Only eight thirty-two in the cool September morning. "And no one knows if they already have a contact to make the deal with. Any idea where this little pal of yours would hang out?"

The group collectively shook their heads.

"Great." Hannibal's tone was a mix of serious, sarcastic, and excited, and all three of his friends bit back groans that could've been heard clear across the county.

He was on the Jazz again, and they'd just started this job.

* * *

 **(later that night)**

Murdock's unease wasn't fading.

In fact, it was growing.

As the team sat in a hotel room on the north side of Littleford, courtesy of Face and his latest scam, he tried desperately to stop thinking about the whole matter. He was crazy after all... this was just... just him being a teeny weeny bit paranoid...

wasn't it?

"Hey, Hannibal!" B. A. called from the kitchen of the hotel suite as he poured himself a tall, cool glass of milk, "the crazy man ain't talkin'."

Face smirked, looking up from the newspaper he was reading to see if there was anything useful for finding this stalker. "B. A., you almost sound, oh, what's the word... concerned?"

"Shut up, man. I ain't concerned 'bout Murdock. Just quiet in here is all, and this nut's got 'is head in Camel-somethin'."

"It..." Murdock began in a drawn out and dramatic voice, gesturing in wide circles, "is. Camelot. And I have been observing an evil sorceress as she advances towards the city! I, a lowly peasant in this magnificent land, must warn the King! It is my duty to-"

"Shut up, fool! The only duty you have is bein' quiet! Or it'll be my duty to knock you upside your crazy head."

Face chuckled softly, earning a glare from B. A. that he just shrugged off.

They had quite a bit of work to do.

* * *

 _-sorry for the wait, guys! (and for any typos) my family went on a much-needed vacation and i've just gotten time to start updating everything and get my stories back on track. (if you read the other two i've also been working on, then they'll be updated by the end of the week.)_

 _thanks, Skipper McSlade, Rynn Wolfe, LizzyH84, la-hija-de-Dios and LAGC for reviewing! :)_


	4. Trying to Feel Invincible

Face wasn't thrilled. "This..."

"Is the plan?" Hannibal finished, taking another drag from the cigar. "Yeah."

Murdock shrugged, having decided this morning that he was just stinking paranoid; okay, so he hadn't fully convinced himself yet, but he was! "Aw, I think it's a great little ol' plan, Colonel!" He slapped his thighs and grinned like a kid in a candy store.

B.A. shook his head. "I don't. I think it stinks."

Face sighed. "It... are you sure... what even-"

"Okay, since you all have different opinions of my plan-" Hannibal removed the cigar from his mouth "-that means you must've heard it wrong."

"My hearin's fine," B.A. retorted, glaring.

"Just listen. B.A. and Murdock, you two-"

"First problem," B.A. grunted, shifting on the hotel bed's red sheets. "You put me an' that crazy man together."

Hannibal ignored him. "You two take a drive around the city tonight. See if you can find anything suspicious."

"That's a bit vague, man." B.A. was making it clearer than Face's scammed crystal that he hated this plan.

"Look for a single person acting suspicious. Besides, we don't have a n appearance to go on. " He continued. "Face, we need an ad."

"An ad?"

Hannibal rolled his eyes. "Run an ad in the paper. Something flashy."

"What kind of ad?"

"Hm..." Hannibal shrugged. "What would lure in a stalker?"

"Sure would help if we knew what they liked," Face commented. "But I guess you can't just walk up to them in the street and ask, given we have NO IDEA who we're after."

B.A. just sighed.

Another puff of smoke. The plan continued to unfold. "Fine. Make it a job."

"A job?"

"You're failing your hearing test with flying colors, Lieutenant. Make it an ad for us, under the aliases you used for the room. Offer, oh, about a hundred dollars a week."

Face's eyes were wider than ping pong balls. "One hundred dollars? Hannibal, that's a bit high! What on earth kind of job is this? We'll be attracting the whole county with it!"

"No. It's a high pay for a shady job, and it's coming from what sounds like shady people. Or it'll look that way. Just put in that the job details have to be discussed with the employer. Put in a phone number and I'll answer the calls. Then, we move on to interviews-"

"Oh joy." Face facepalmed. "My department, I'm assuming?"

"Exactly! That's the spirit!" Hannibal smirked. "We do have a rough guess at the height and weight of our target. Matt said they were about 5'7'' and around 140 pounds."

Face just nodded. "Still vague, but I'll take what I can get. So this guy... how do we know if we've got the right one?"

"We hope..." Hannibal grabbed a photo from his pocket, "that they wear shoes with this tread."

Face took the picture and Murdock leaned over his shoulder to see. Hannibal said, "Matt shot this outside after the stalker hit."

"Still don't like this, man," B.A. muttered, getting up and pacing.

Yet again, Hannibal pressed on with his explanation. But Face started thinking...

what about security cameras?

Surely the mens' fortress had those!

He waited until Hannibal got through with his plan and asked, "Uh, Hannibal?"

"Yeah?"

"What about security cameras?"

Hannibal just nodded and grinned. "Matt said they were being repaired when the creep hit. So we have to scout out the whole area."

"What if they've left the area?"

"Face... I'm really just hoping they haven't. The job is a messenger, running our errands, sort of. It'll look so shady, only scum will pursue it."

Face grimaced. "Great. Need a building to go along with the ad?"

"No."

"Oh, good."

"We need a house."

Murdock just grinned as Face groaned. "I like this plan! I get to work with my best buddy B.A.!"

B.A. growled.

* * *

 _-how 'bout Hannibal's plan, huh? pretty involved... anyone think it'll work?_

 _sorry for any mistakes or typos (and sorry it's short) :( i'm exhausted._

 _thanks, Rynn Wolfe and LizzyH84 for reviewing! :)_


	5. Dying on Top of the World

A dark shadow fell over the cluttered desk shoved crooked against the paint-chipped corner. Well, to its owner it wasn't cluttered; it was messily organized, cracked Mason jars rejected in dumpsters across the city now repurposed and stuffed with markers, pencils, tools, and two devoted to just odds and ends. Three five gallons buckets of little tubes of paint and sticks of paintbrushes rested near the desk, a pile of canvases their companion as they rested on the desk chair.

The walls were concrete, as was the floor. Stacks of books and random boxes of tools dotted the grey, pitted floor. A torn mattress lay in the corner across from the desk, cardboard boxes stacked to form a make-shift wall between the two.

This was only half the room; the other half was a lift, with a vehicle shrouded in shadows resting on the perch. Tires and wheels and hubcaps and all kinds of mechanical equipment formed a sloppy circle around the lift.

A door hidden by the lift lead to a bathroom, a small bathroom with only a ramshackle stand-in shower.

It was quaint, to say the least.

On the bed lay a nest of old, tattered blankets and a file marked "Littleford Agents".

And resting partially on the file was a book labeled with _King Arthur._

* * *

 **(two blocks away)**

A figure hidden from the world in a grey jacket, hood pulled over their face, picked up a copy of _The Littleford Gazette_.

But they hadn't payed for it.

This one was an abandoned copy, today's copy. Their nimble and stained fingers flipping through the pages. Another robbery... Tom Wilson and Cora Mayfield's marriage announcement... Mr. Lewis' obituary- wait, he was dead? Poor man...

They stopped at the list of ads and ran a callused fingertip down the print-

what was that?

 _ **Would you like a job?**_

 _ **$100 a week!**_

 _ **Please contact the following number (874) 292-7386 for more information.**_

The person snorted, laughing hollowly. "Heh, pretty blunt there," their gruff and hoarse voice graveled out. They sighed. "What kinda job, though? Sounds... sounds suspicious-"

But as their stomach decided to voice its opinion, they bit their chapped lip. "... but I need the cash."

This could be bad, very bad.

But starving from not eating in three days could be worse.

They'd call the number tomorrow, first thing in the bleak sun-kissed morning.

First, they had to find food.

Stealing was out of the question; only did that once... that's where the slash running up their right forearm came in. And it was only a candy bar.

So...

there had to be something, anything! With only ten cents burning a hole in their faded pocket, someone had to need help with a job. If only-

"Ghost!"

The figure turned, the world slightly spinning from the lack of nourishment. "Yes?"

The grocery store owner from down the street ran up, holding a paper bag. "There you are! I didn't get to pay you for your work last week- Ghost you look horrible!"

Another half-dead laugh. "Really? I didn't get a chance to look in the mirror this morning. How bad's my hair?"

The older Italian man laughed heartily, but with concern twinkling in his eyes, he pulled a five dollar bill from his pocket. "Here. And-" he pulled something from his bag.

A cinnamon roll.

"Mrs. Watson won't mind one missing from her order anyways."

The person dubbed as Ghost shook their head. "I can't-"

"Take it. Besides, she knows you." The man patted Ghost's shoulder and left. "Take care of yourself! I'll track you down if I need more help."

Ghost just nodded and stared down at the food in shock. "Thank you," they mumbled to both the grocery store owner, and God, who they knew had provided yet again. "Now..." they headed down the street, looking for another job, taking slow bites of the sticky and sweet roll. "I just need to find a quick job."

* * *

 **(two minutes later)**

Murdock and B.A. were walking down the street, looking for anything out of the ordinary.

So far, nothing.

Though, it was only ten in the morning, and they'd only been at this for fifteen minutes.

Murdock shook his head. "Anything yet?"

B.A. just growled.

"Okay, okay, just wanted to know if you thought anything was off 'round here," he placated. "Guess not."

B.A. sighed. "Why'd I hafta get stuck wit' ya, crazy fool?" His jewelry jingled with every step.

Murdock could hear it. "Does that ever bother you?"

"What?"

"That noise your bling makes!" Murdock gestured wildly. "It's like wearin' a suit of armor!"

B.A. sighed yet again. "Not that Camelot rap again."

Murdock grinned and turned back, not watching where he was walking-

"Ow!"

He felt something collide with his chest and he fell on his rear, B.A. instantly turning and helping him up. "What-"

Both looked down to see a person shorter than them both, a hood over their head. B.A. and Murdock each offered a hand. "Sorry!"

The person shrugged, reaching for the paper that they'd dropped. "It's fine. Meet someone new everyday, right? Or is it 'you learn something new everyday?'"

Murdock grinned again. "I think I like this person."

The person's face was entirely covered and they quickly apologized. "It's my fault. Wasn't looking where I was going. Sorry, sir. You both have a good day." And with that, they turned and walked away, fishing something from their pocket.

Murdock looked at the person, then at B.A., and then back at the person.

B.A. looked at Murdock as well. "That paper..."

Murdock nodded. "Yep, I'm not dreamin' this time."

The paper was opened and folded over to their ad.

* * *

 **(with Face, three hours later)**

Face had been waiting ten minutes for his order. It was only a few lousy burgers for lunch! He wanted to get back to the team, not wait in a diner...

who was that?

A person sat at a table in the corner, re-reading their check and shaking their head. Face almost smirked. Not enough cash to cover it. But judging from their clothes, he bit back a smirk and displayed a slight frown as they stood and headed to the counter. He heard the blond waitress whose number he wanted to get after this burger fiasco was over say something to the person whose hood was pulled over their face.

He listened closer and heard the figure say, "Please, I'll wash some dishes in the back or something. I thought I had enough money, I swear!"

But the waitress was having none of it. "Listen, idiot," she drawled, treating the person like a toddler. "You ordered this stuff knowing full well how much it costs. I'm not taking pity on you, and the manager won't either. Rich!"

A burly man emerged from the kitchen and glared at the hooded figure. "You! You really thought you could come in here and try to pull this again?"

"Please!" The other person hoarsely pleaded. "Is there any way I can do dishes or sweep or something? I'm sorry... I really didn't know-"

Face had had enough.

He marched up to the person's side, demanding an audience with, "Is there a problem here?"

The owner nodded. "This piece of trash couldn't pay their bill. Again!"

Face glanced at the supposed offender; they were staring at the ground. He felt horrible, even though this person could be a criminal with how their face was covered.

But criminals just ran when they couldn't cover their bill. Or they just robbed the place instead.

No, this person had a different story.

He crossed his arms and glared back, the manager taken aback by this defiance. "How much is their bill?"

"Four twenty-eight, tax included."

Only that much? Come to think of it, only one single plate and cup were on the table, not a ton of food. He looked to the worn out body in front of him. "How much do you have on you?"

"Three dollars," they whispered sadly. "That's all."

Face fished around in his pocket and laid a five on the counter. "Keep the stinkin' change," he hissed, the waitress shocked. "Now... where's my order?!"

The bag of food was promptly dropped on the counter and Face smirked angrily. "Thanks. Won't be coming back with this lousy customer service!" He raised his voice on the last three words and left, several customers looking up.

As he was walking down the sidewalk, someone grabbed his arm. He spun around and saw the person from earlier, holding out three wrinkled bills. "Sir, it's all I got, but I can't let you do that for me."

Face just held up a hand and smiled sadly. "It's no problem. And keep your money."

The person shook their head and pressed the bills into his other hand that held the bag. "Thank you." And then they bolted down the street.

Face looked at the money and forced himself to shove it into his pocket. "Who was that?" he wondered, starting to head back to the hotel once more.

* * *

 **(that night, outside the hotel)**

Hannibal couldn't think.

Murdock was watching cartoons, B.A. was grumbling about the television being too loud, and Face was somehow asleep despite the racket.

So he headed to the ground floor and out the door, leaning on the outside wall for a smoke. He grabbed a cigar and lit it, taking one puff, two-

"Come on, you stupid thing!"

He turned and looked to his left. By the corner of the building, in the nine o'clock moon light, sat someone, one shoe off.

One very battered shoe.

He took two steps towards them and noticed they were trying to lace a new pair of shoelaces through their battered shoes, a new roll of duct tape laying on the ground near them. They grunted as they pulled the shoe back on, shrugging. Those things couldn't possibly be comfortable, not in the shape they were in. The person grabbed up the tape and ripped off a strip, wrapping it around the shoe tightly before standing up and heading off into the dark street, completely oblivious to the fact that they'd been watched.

Hannibal noticed they'd dropped something and stooped to pick it up. Another puff of smoke left his lips as he read over what appeared to be a receipt for a pair of shoelaces and a roll of duct tape that totaled two dollars.

He crumpled the paper up, sure it wasn't important, and threw it out on his way back into the hotel.

Tomorrow they scouted again, and answered any calls for the job.

This plan had to work.

* * *

 _-sorry for any mistakes :(_

 _this will be the only story i'll really be updating like normal; it's just the easiest one to write for. so... yay! :)_

 _and... is anyone else having trouble with their story stats? mine come up as an "error" message. :(_

 _thanks, Rynne Wolfe and CosaBella for reviewing! :)_


	6. I Remember the Lies

Murdock sighed. Another day was almost over on this case, and he was still trying to convince himself he was only paranoid.

He was sitting in B.A.'s van inside the agents' garage, trying to take a nap. There was nothing to do, and he was tired - no, exhausted - from thinking too much.

He stretched out in his seat and took a deep breath, finally feeling like he was starting to nod off. Good... he was so tired...

"... yeah, I know it's bad. I'm tracking them down now... "

Murdock opened one eye. Who was that? It sounded kinda like Matt...

"I promise, our mission is still on. No one knows about the information leak outside of my men. We'll pull this off, don't worry."

That was a lie! A big fat liar, liar, pants on fire lie! Murdock's other eye opened and he sat up, hearing, "Yeah, I know who took the information. It's that brat again."

He knew?!

He knew!

Murdock shook his head. "You, sir, are a disgrace to the Round Table!" He got up and knelt down behind the driver's seat, watching as a door to his left opened and shut.

Matt's office.

So...

This was all a lie?

Matt knew who'd taken his information.

Matt told what seemed like his contact that no one else knew.

So...

how did the A-team fit in?

Murdock waited until Matt left and slipped into the driver's seat, backing out of the open garage and pulling out onto the road. "I knew I wasn't paranoid, stupid brain!" he shouted, using the van's phone to call the hotel. "Hannibal?"

"Yeah? Murdock, this line has to be open-"

"Matt's lying to us."

"What?"

Murdock pulled over and parked in a drug store lot. "I overheard him on the phone. He doesn't know I did. Look, he was talking to someone. He said something about a mission still being on-"

"Captain," Hannibal cut in, irritated. "He probably meant a government mission."

"I don't think so, Colonel. He also said no one outside of his team knew the information was stolen, AND that he knew who took it."

"He did, did he?" Hannibal whistled low. "Great, just great. So... who took it?"

Murdock face-palmed. "All he said was that it was a 'brat'."

"If he knows who this is, the others must know, too." A sigh crackled over the line. "Tonight we go in. We have to find that paperwork on what was stolen. Then we might now why Matt and his team lied."

Murdock hung up and sighed, mumbling to himself, "Well, this is going flawlessly."

* * *

 _-sorry it's so short, and sorry for any typos :(_

 _thanks, Temp and Rynn Wolfe for the reviews! :)_


	7. Caught Up in Building Paradise

"The president comes to the state capital in four days."

A dark figure knelt down outside the door by Matt's office, holding a stack of papers. They'd gotten in easily, surprisingly easy, but only because they now knew Matt and his goons were distracted.

"Our job..."

Matt's voice trailed off and the person, who'd made a move to stand, quickly dropped back down, crouching on their knees.

"... is to kill him."

Wait... kill the president?! Who in their right mind was stupid enough to even think about killing Reagan?

"Our contacts overseas and in the government have it all worked out. Our schedule is simple: five minutes into his speech, we open fire. Quick and easy shot. Eliminate him. Only have one one chance. Then, we run. And as the country reels from the attack..."

This was it, this was the missing link! This was what they needed to hear, to find in a file, before!

"... that leaves our foreign friends time to invade the border. And that leaves us with twenty-five million dollars."

Four days.

That wasn't much time.

The figure finally stood, not making a single sound, and knew that as soon as they triggered the closed garage door to open...

they had to bolt.

Tiptoeing to the switch on the shadowed wall, their fingers reached out to press the button, not quite there-

"YOU!"

Matt and his men piled on top of the figure, the papers going everywhere, pulling off their hood and mask. He glared. "It... it's you?"

Face shrugged as much as he could for being pinned. "Yeah. Thought I'd drop in and say 'hi.'" His eyes twinkled with mischief, and definitely more than a little blunt hatred.

Just as he finished speaking the garage door erupted in a boom of smoke, Hannibal stepping through the haze and firing a round into the ceiling. B.A. and Murdock raised their guns as well as Hannibal hissed, "So... you want to knock off the president."

Matt cursed. "How-"

B.A. held up a recorder and Face smirked, pointing to a bug sewn into his shirt pocket, the black device blending in with the fabric nicely. "We recorded you, fool!" B.A. growled. "You's all crazy!"

Murdock spoke up, shifting his hold on his machine gun to one hand. "Yeah! I mean, it's against the knight's code to kill the ruler! That's treason and a death wish and oh yeah- it's STUPID!"

Matt shook his head. "You don't understand. It's paying us good."

Hannibal quickly started putting puzzle pieces together. "So the stalker isn't stealing highly classified information. They know you're up to something, that 'something' being that you all are mercenaries for hire!"

"Well, what are you four?"

Murdock could feel his just healed wound pulse under his shirt; his bad feeling was stronger now... it was back with a vengeance. "Unlike you SCUM," he spat out the last word like one would vomit, "we try to protect others, as well as our country!"

Matt laughed bitterly. "The same country that hunts you down? Wants you locked away?"

One tick of silence.

Hannibal rocked on his feet and said with a face and tone of stone, "Country and government are two different things. One threw the first stone prematurely. The other didn't."

Matt shook his head. "What are you possibly going to do now? No one will believe that recording of yours if it's hand-delivered by the A-Team."

"We have friends. And if I can read English correctly," Face glared, his usually bright eyes now churning with a desire for revenge, "the government already has your squad of scuzzbags on a watch list. You've been getting this information very carefully on other countries, as well as our own. How many other war secrets and classified documents do you have to just hand over for a few extra cents?"

"Watch your mouth, kid," the man who mirrored B.A. threatened, cracking his knuckles.

Murdock glanced around. They needed an out, and they needed it now! Sure it was fun to sit and chat a bit, but there was no tea here! And no crumpets! How unacceptable!

Plus, these guys would be like going against themselves…

and Murdock wasn't feeling well. His recent injury flared with pain and he tried not to wince. No showing weakness. No Achilles' heel. He needed something, anything, to distract those whackos-

BANG!

The large light dangling from thick cords over their heads - appropriately placed between the two sides of the showdown - fell to the ground, crashing and sending a shower of glass as everything went dark. Curses flew and before anyone could react punches were being thrown on both sides. No one knew who was getting hit; they just hoped their fists and feet and knees met those of the enemy. And it was unanimously stupid to shoot, so all guns were abandoned.

Luckily, Hannibal was pummeling Matt's sorry hide, his face a mass of angry bruises. They both had abrasions and blood to sport, but with a heaving breath both sent shots into the other's jaw and both fell, Hannibal severely stunned, Matt out cold with a broken tooth and a bashed in nose.

Face was exchanging totally blind blows, finding crates scattered about the garage and hurling them into any punches aimed his way. He heard them scatter like glass, hoping he'd done some damage.

B.A. had taken down two men, his look-a-like currently swinging for his head in hopes of permanently renovating the attic with his fist. Both were lunging at each other, feeding off pure anger in a blind stalemate.

Without warning, Face felt a box get ripped from his hands and a fist smashed into his chest. He fell to the ground, groaning out a weak cry for B.A., which he was sure wasn't heard. Too stunned to move, Face heard two cries and two thuds. He passed out, fading from visual black to mental black, wondering who'd been chopped down.

B.A. heard his opponent fall and suddenly something slammed into the back of his neck. Sure it was a piece of wood like the one Face used a few years back before a mysterious arrival in Italy, B.A. crumbled onto a crate, resembling an unmoving sack of potatoes.

Hannibal didn't hear anything except more falls. Then panting and someone dragging something out the non-existent door. He wanted to get up so badly, but he was sure there was a diagnosis of a mild concussion in his future and he let his eyes slip shut, unconscious.

* * *

Face was the first to return to the world, and woke up in darkness again. There was a little light floating in through the doorway; it was sunrise. He scrambled to his feet and over to Hannibal, who was starting to stir and then to B.A., who swatted his hand off his shoulder and mumbled, "Fool!"

"He's fine," Face muttered, looking around. All Matt's men, and Matt himself, were scattered around the room, all bruised and busted up, but not severely. Each looked like they would wake up with a whopper of a headache, if the bumps on the backs of their heads were anything to go by. He looked around, feeling something wasn't right. Where… what…

Murdock!

Where was he?

B.A. frowned and regained his footing quickly. "Where's that crazy fool's jibber-jabber?"

Hannibal looked around, ignoring his own pain. Learn that from war… "Murdock?"

They quickly scouted the building, not finding their pilot anywhere.

But upon returning to the garage, Hannibal noticed the dirt on the floor revealed a set of footprints that didn't belong to any of them, and something being drug from the building.

Face shook his head. "He's gone…"

"Not gone." Hannibal looked around, remembering something else. "Taken."

And a glance around proved his hunch.

"And our guns are gone missing, too."

* * *

Noon rolled around.

They'd rushed back to the hotel, cleaned up and bandaged up their injuries, called and canceled their ad (thanks to Face), and checked out.

They had to hide.

This time Hannibal conned a hotel under the disguise of a rich elderly man with a speech impediment; Face acted as his interpreter, who talked too fast to be understood. And B.A.? Well, he was their security as Hannibal chose to con a ritzy casino hotel in the area; he knew Matt would think they fled with the information.

No, not at all.

They had to stay and figure out how to stall the president's arrival, and how to make sure he lived through his stay.

But first…

they had to find Murdock.

And fast.

* * *

 _-any guesses where Murdock is? the next chapter should be interesting... ;) unfortunately, it probably won't be up for about a week. sorry, guys :(  
_

 _sorry for any typos :(_

 _thanks, Temp, Rynn Wolfe, and LAGC for reviewing! :)_


	8. Angels Were Slaves

The first thing Matt thought was that someone was splitting his head open with a chainsaw.

At least, that's what it felt like.

He sat up, blinking back the sunlight that poured through the empty doorway to the garage. Everything hurt, and his vision was so blurred from both pain and the noonday sun streaming in.

Something was itching his neck, and it was irritating! He reached up to his collar and found a piece of ripped paper jammed inside. He unfolded it and at first the letters swam, but with a couple seconds and some blinking, he could read the scrawled pencil text:

 _Roses are red._

 _Violets are blue._

 _Your socks stink like skunks,_

 _Oh, and so do you._

 _P.S: I believe in chess, this move is called "check". Good luck getting out of this corner._

Matt tore the paper in two in his red-faced rage.

"You're not winning. It's bad enough you ever existed in my life," he promised himself. "I'm putting an end to you messing up my life…"

He looked away, glaring at someone who wasn't there. "You should've done it years ago. Saved us all this trouble."

* * *

"Mr. Hilbert!"

A young man in his twenties stepped out onto his front porch, grabbing up the news paper that paired so well with his eight A.M. coffee. He looked over the white picket fence with a clean-shaven grin. "Good morning, Mrs. Watson!"

Mrs. Watson was an elderly woman whose husband had passed two years ago. The young man she was now talking to had grown attached to her since his parents' brutal divorce right before he moved away from home. Her slightly plump, happy personality always made him smile, and he did a few chores on and off for her if her arthritis flared up. "Please, I told you it's Pearl." She laughed and he did as well, shaking his head. "Have you seen Ghost around?"

Ghost? Come to think of it… "No, I haven't."

Mrs. Watson sighed, her blue eyes filled with concern. "No one has, except for Pete. Said the poor dear looked half-dead."

Nathan Hilbert bit his lip. The more he pondered it, Ghost had started to look quite pale in the last few weeks, and the hooded figure had only been spotted twice in the last week, which was rare. After all, half the neighborhood loved Ghost and recruited the mysterious shadow for odd jobs or help with errands in exchange for something simple.

He remembered about a month ago when he asked Ghost if it was possible for them to help him out with some yard work. The response was yes, and was immediately followed with a humble inquiry if in return they could have a couple pieces of bread. That was it. He remembered having to force Ghost to take three pieces of bread and a five dollar bill from yesterday's pay, along with a cool jug of tea from the store. They'd worked all day in the blazing sun, and all Ghost had wanted was a few bites of food to fuel the walk home.

Ghost was strange, but incredibly kind, and they'd never hurt a single soul in town.

He snapped back to the present conversation when Pearl looked sadly out at the road. "I hope they stop by soon. Poor child needs a good meal and rest."

Nathan nodded sadly, wondering where Ghost lived. No one ever knew… they just vanished. The cops were convinced Ghost was a pickpocket, at least until two weeks ago when they actually caught the goon responsible for the wallet-lifting spree. They'd chased the kid several times, each time Ghost living up to the nickname and vanishing. Now it seemed all but a quarter of the city was looking to help the hidden figure out in some way, almost always by giving them a job or two; it was the only way the tired kid accepted food or drink, or something unusual like odds and ends of fabric; the latter was for mending their clothes, which were in sad shape.

He truly hoped Ghost was alright.

* * *

Face didn't know why he was bothering with this.

Sunglasses perched on his nose. His true hair hidden under thirty years of fake age. A thick jacket that added an additional ten years (not only to his appearance- it was so heavy!).

He looked, well, not like his usual suave self.

As he hobbled down the street he could feel it.

Someone was watching him.

War taught people how to feel when eyes were on them, especially unwanted eyes.

Face turned, feeling an invisible weight to his right. A person with a grey hood tucked over their face bolted from an alley, rushing in the opposite direction.

Maybe it wasn't them, though…

Face wasn't sure what to think. But after a couple more steps, he heard a crinkle under his foot.

Paper.

A scrap of paper, now crumbled and dirty, was pressed by his footprint. Face bent down like he was the age he looked - he had an image to uphold here! - and unfolded it.

 _Ho ho ho! What would you like for Christmas this year?_

 _What? The song says "to kids from 1 to 92". Pretty sure you're not eighty though... and we've got five months til Christmas.  
_

 _Oh! Can I make a suggestion? How about four beautiful machine guns? Come on, they're in excellent condition, pal._

 _Just think about it. I'll get back to you._

* * *

 _-interesting notes, huh? the next chapter will be up in a couple days :)_

 _any ideas where Murdock is? he'll show up sooner or later, i promise!_

 _sorry for any mistakes :(_

 _thanks, LAGC, Rynn Wolfe, and Danzinora Switch for reviewing! :)_


	9. Demons Behaved

Hannibal and B.A. looked over the map again.

"The way it looks…" Hannibal sighed, tracing the lines racing road along the map, "There's seven main roads in. Five side roads. It's impossible to cover them all successfully. Someone will figure it out."

B.A. shook his head, his gold jangling over his purple shirt. "Hannibal, you hafta have a plan, man!"

"Well…" Hannibal pulled out a cigar, his blue eyes sad. "I don't. At least not yet… where's Face?"

Under his breath, John Smith swore he heard B.A. ask, "And where's Murdock?"

* * *

The president was three days out.

Only three.

That meant timing was crucial.

The file of evidence couldn't be handed over with the A-Team in town; they were good guys, despite falling for that whole joke. They needed to escape.

And the president also had to be delayed…

or…

That left a silent figure in all black, pants scuffed and shoes specked with mud, running around the Regency hotel overlooking Warren Valley, an hour south of Littleford.

After hiding in the hotel's many supply closets and planting two bugs in the office, the dark figure hid. Unfortunately, they hadn't had a chance to grab any grub that morning and were only ten feet from their kitchens…

awesome.

Hunger gnawed away at their stomach, but they ignored it as best they could, tracking every manager's movement in and out of the lobby.

There was a shift change that night, right at 10.

They had five minutes.

Only five.

When 9:57 PM ticked on their shattered watch, the person ran through the semi-dark halls, ducking behind a large sofa in the lobby near some vending machines. They listened to the desk clerk laugh and say, "Yep. He'll be here tomorrow. Heading for Littelford… yeah, I'll let Ron know before his shift starts…"

And then the clerk was gone.

Dark feet flew over to the desk and stayed hunched low as the hotel's computer was located.

 **Select:**

 **Files**

 **Reservations**

 **Employee Staff**

 **Schedules**

Maybe files? They selected it.

 **Select:**

 **Employee Lists**

 **Company Policy**

 **Menu**

 **Recently Accessed**

Definitely the last one.

 **PRES-01780- Accessed Today**

Bingo.

They opened the file and it confirmed what was said earlier, that the president's team and security would receive this file for the final destination address upon arrival.

Now…

There was another city, bigger than Littleford, about two hours over from Littleford. It was Littleman… no one knew where the name was born, but it apparently stuck.

Their swift fingers had the town name changed in no time. Maybe it wouldn't deter the president and posse, but it would at least be a delay.

Now, they needed a few more tricks…

* * *

"So say we get the president delayed?" B.A. stared at Hannibal. "Then what?" The streaks of road on the map were twisting as B.A. stared.

"Well, we…"

* * *

"Use whatcha got," the figure grunted, dragging a coiled hose out behind them.

For two hours they'd driven now, lugging a thick garden hose as midnight rose in the sky overhead. They pulled over and grabbed the hose from their vehicle, shadowed by the trees along the road.

The hose wasn't going to find itself attached to anything. Instead, after stretching it out from its coil, the deflated snake was jabbed with sharp nails. Sharp, rusty nails.

A home-made spike strip was better than nothing.

The road was packed dirt, so after returning to their ride and grabbing up a shovel, a section of road was quickly dug up and the hose placed inside, shards facing up.

This was a more secluded road that led into Littleford. Guessing that the error would be noticed at least an hour after receiving the location, the entourage would probably turn back and head for Littleford. This road wasn't used much, so just tossing a quick layer of dirt over the spike strip was enough to hide it from sight. After a few cars passed over it without incident, the dirt would surely be shook off the nails and they'd be deadly.

Now… what else could they do?

* * *

"Roadblocks?" B.A. suggested, hoping that there was some sense to Hannibal's plan. Although sometimes there never was….

"Yep. Hit the main roads. It's the only way. It's not like we can do much else."

* * *

"And… done."

The most congested road into Littleford now had a massive crater, courtesy of the same figure behind the spike strip.

What? They'd just taken advantage of a few fireworks and some matches…and a spot of leaked gasoline…

The crater was actually too big for their plan, knocking out both incoming lanes But it got the job done. Besides, this road was only used - or mainly used - in the morning by busy workers.

But before they could plan any other obstacles, the figure swayed in the stray rays of dawn, weak from a full day with no nourishment. They managed to nudge their car door open and fall into the driver's seat, head spinning.

They had to get home, though…

on a different road.

* * *

 _-sorry for any typos :( i've been really busy and i'm kinda fried... sorry, guys :(  
_


	10. And Everything Was Alright

President Reagan was supposed to be in town tomorrow.

And with the main artery into the city blown up, the repairs were definitely a welcome delay.

But still, the A-Team had some work to do.

Sadly, Hannibal and the team came to the hard conclusion that finding Murdock would have to wait. There was just no way to find him and stall the president.

Or actually, stall Matt and his freak squad.

So the three remaining members of the infamous A-Team led Matt's team on a wild goose-chase, stalking them to find out where they got their weapons repaired. They rigged the guns with explosives (just enough to cause… minor injury… what? Arms weren't important!) and did some tinkering under their two vehicles (what? B.A. needed the practice. No sense in losing skill!), making sure they'd break down by tomorrow.

They had one more plan-

"President Reagan will be arriving in town tomorrow morning at eleven for his address for the community's Honoring Veterans service. He-"

Face muted the television. "Guess we're not on the invite list."

"What?" Hannibal grabbed a burger out of their take-out bag. "No one said wanted criminals that just happened to be veterans were excluded."

"Too bad we don't got our guns back," B.A. said sorrowfully, feeling like a piece of him was missing without his weapon.

Hannibal and Face knew how he felt. "And too bad we don't have a pilot for aerial surveillance." Face sighed.

Everyone went silent after that, knowing tomorrow was going to be rough.

Hannibal took another bite of his burger and gagged at the feeling of something weird on his tongue. "Hm!" He pulled a slip of paper from his mouth and dropped the burger. "What-"

 _Meet me tomorrow morning at 4 A.M. outside Clark's Garage. Your Christmas wish might just come true._

* * *

Dawn was only spreading a few rays over the sky when the three exhausted team members arrived outside a well-kept garage with a "Closed" sign dangling on the dirty door. No lease signs hung from any windows; no sale signs were posted either.

Hannibal looked around. "This place looks decent. Wonder why it's closed."

"'Cause old Dennis Clark hit the road for a retirement home in Florida."

The three jumped, ready for this whole thing to be a set-up. Standing there was a person in all black. None of them could tell if it was a guy or a girl due to the bulky clothes and the hoarse voice. They coughed, and Face winced. That cough didn't sound good. "Here." They handed over a heavy bag that was wrapped over their shoulder, watching with tired eyes as Hannibal checked inside. Sure enough, there guns were there.

Even Murdock's…

"Where's our pilot?" Hannibal growled, dropping the bag and hefting his now loaded gun.

"Pilot? Why would you need a pilot? Planes have to be approved to fly today. Sky's restricted." They shook their head in the grey morning light. "Anyways, I've been tracking the president. He might be a bit delayed."

"What did you do?"

A shrug. "Just messed with the hotel's computer so he'd head elsewhere. Of course, they'll probably notice within an hour, and then be detoured to a side road. But I bought us all an hour. Don't waste it."

Hannibal wasn't about to say thanks. "Look, who's side are you on?"

"Yours, I think. If you're still with Matt, then I really regret not bringing my own gun."

"You're unarmed?" Face asked, looking the person over.

"You with Matt?"

Hannibal started softening towards the kid (what? They were younger than him, if voice was any indication); they had guts and spunk. "No."

"Then no, I'm not armed. Oh, by the way… I kinda got inside City Hall's computers and messed with today's schedule. Reagan goes on last, so the delay won't be noticed… unless he doesn't show at all."

"Matt's guns are rigged to explode."

The blunt truth from Hannibal was greeted with a shadowy smirk. "Sweet. I-"

B.A. frowned as the person broke out in another cough. "You alright?"

"Yeah…" another cough. "Just run-down. Look, I don't know anything about a pilot. But I do know we have our bases covered now. You-"

BANG!

The person flinched and nearly shouted as Hannibal shot out a window of the garage. "Hey!"

"What? had to be sure you didn't mess with the guns."

"No. I just cleaned them for you. No need to shoot up the joint!"

Face shook his head. "Great. He's shooting stuff. Gun back, twinkling eyes-"

"He's on the Jazz." B.A. couldn't help but finish the thought as he grabbed up Murdock's gun.

Hannibal sighed. "We'll find Murdock later. Right now-" he looked over their little helper and bit his lip, "You don't sound so good, kid."

"I am NOT a kid," came the harsh comeback. "I'm just a little tired. You guys should get up on the higher buildings. You'll have clearer shots if you need to rain down some bullets on Matt and his scumbags. Godspeed."

And just like that they were gone.

Face whirled around. "Where-"

"They're good." Hannibal's comment was surprising; for him to say that, he really had to feel that their new acquaintance (not quite friend… yet) was even remotely close to being on their level. "Probably still running ground interference for us."

"So what do we do?" Face smoothed his blue shirt out of habit.

"What they told us. Right now, they've got this whole thing on a timer. We have enough time to scout out the tallest buildings and see where we can get access to the rooftops. Let's go."

They ran back to B.A.'s van and quietly pulled away from the abandoned garage, not seeing the door creak open as they left.

* * *

"I am pleased to introduce President Ronald Reagan!"

Face grabbed his walkie from his pocket, glancing over his shoulder to make sure no one from the building's security was ready to pound his must-needed face in. "Hannibal-"

"I heard. Standby."

From his perch, Face could see three of Matt's men, all their guns trained on the platform as the president stepped onto the platform's steps. Applause roared from the crowd, a group of veterans escorting him to the stage and shaking his hand.

B.A.'s voice crackled over the speaker. "Matt signaled them. They open in ten seconds."

"Good. Shoot in seven… six… five-"

The rest was a blur, but as soon as Hannibal hit one, all three fired at who was close, B.A. shooting at two, Hannibal at Matt and one other of his idiots, and Face the two closest to him.

They still fired-

and all six guns exploded.

The crowd looked around, some starting to panic-

but that was quickly stopped as several plumes of smoke shot into the sky and burst, raining confetti down on the crowd.

The president grinned and shook hands with the speaker who'd introduced him, and stepped up to the microphone.

Hannibal laughed in relief. "Well, I don't think Matt or his lunatics will be after the president any time soon."

Sure enough, they were lower to the ground, so all six were spotted and grabbed by sets of police who knew the difference between a confetti canon and a gun shot.

But they didn't tell a soul, except their superiors, who didn't want the day ruined by the near assassination.

Instead, charges were filed and the issue was swept under the carpet immediately.

* * *

B.A. left his post on top of Reliant Rental's headquarters. He took the stairs down so as not to be seen in the elevator, then quickly got out the door, his camo get-up and clanking gold clashing with the suits and ties snubbing their noses at him.

Well, there was one person who wasn't in a suit and tie.

In fact, they were wearing jeans and a green t-shirt and a leather jacket-

that jacket looked familiar.

In fact, so did those black Converse!

B.A. rushed up to the person, hoping and praying he was right; he'd deny his worry later. He grabbed their shoulder and whipped them around so they faced him.

"Murdock?!"

* * *

 _-he's back! yay! … where was he? um, we'll get back to that._

 _sorry for any typos :( and sorry for the delay! this week has been hectic, but i should be able to post again by Friday!_

 _thank you all so much for the reviews! i really like writing this story, and i'm glad you like it! :)_


	11. Here I Am

Murdock and B.A. just stared at each other in shock. B.A. was mostly taking in that Murdock still had on the clothes he went missing in four days ago, but there was no smell like he'd worn them straight through the four days. He had a bandage running over his forehead and under his navy blue baseball cap. Another was wrapped around his wrist, and fading bruises of blue, purple, yellow, green and brown dotted his face and arms.

He looked… healthy.

"Murdock, where were ya, fool?" B.A. asked trying (and quite obviously failing) at being harsh with their resident nutcase.

Murdock grinned. "I was… well, I'm not sure where. But I woke up and no one was there. So I tried the door and it was open, so I walked out."

Walked out? No one there?

"Were you held prisoner?"

Murdock shook his head. "No. In fact, I was alone most of the time."

"Who was with you? How many? Did they-"

"A kid in a stained hoodie, just one kid in a stained hoodie, and no, they didn't hurt me."

B.A. wrapped a meaty arm around Murdock and started steering him towards where he'd hid his van in an alley. "Where were you?"

"In some garage." Murdock didn't continue explaining until he was seated in the passenger seat of B.A.'s van. "Feels weird sittin' in Hannibal's seat. Anyways… I got hit in the fight, right where I got shot-"

B.A. growled and immediately imagined his fist smashing through Matt's skull.

"Calm down, big cuddly grizzly bear." Murdock shrugged. "I got a nasty bump on the head too and felt sick. I kept seeing double, so I didn't know where I was at first, not until about two days ago when I finally could see where I was. Couldn't keep anything down, not until yesterday."

"Why? You sick?"

Murdock shook his head. He did look just a smidge pale. "No. The shot wound finally stopped throbbing like a jackhammer, and whoever I was with got some really good burgers yesterday."

Burgers? Yesterday?

Was it really possible…

That was the only thing that made sense.

Whoever took Murdock was the same one who left the note in Hannibal's burger. It was the only thing B.A. could think of!

But they denied knowing of any pilot…

but their little helper didn't know Murdock was a pilot.

"You alright now, man?" B.A. asked, starting the van and pulling out not the road.

Murdock nodded. "Yeah. I'm all patched up and feline' peachy keen! I'M READY TO DEFEND CAMELOT!"

"Oh no…" B.A. grinned, turning so Murdock couldn't see.

His crazy friend was back.

Now, if his hunch was right…

* * *

"You were kept in a garage?"

Murdock looked at Hannibal, seeing something in his face that wasn't quite right. "Uh, yeah. Had a mattress thrown on the floor, a desk, some clutter, and even a book on King Arthur!"

"Shut up about that Camelot nonsense, fool," B.A. muttered, grabbing a glass of milk.

"Hannibal, you don't think…"

John looked at Templeton and they both nodded, no words needed.

They were heading back to Clark's garage first thing in the morning.

But first, more questions had to be asked. "You were left alone a lot?"

"Yeah. The person kept disappearing." Murdock sat on the edge of the bed, nodding his thanks to B.A., who handed him a glass of milk as well. "They always came back with something, like a few bottles of water or a loaf of bread, and then the burgers, too."

"Maybe a thief?" Face inquired, standing.

Murdock shook his head. "Naw. They said something about helpin' out some ol' lady. Where are you going?"

"Calling Tania. She said she'd get here tomorrow to help us wrap this up."

Face left the room and Hannibal stood instead. "How did they treat you?"

"Fine. In fact, they gave me stuff to do while they left. Books, a few pieces of paper and a pencil, and a deck of cards- they were nice, really. But," Murdock hesitated. "They seemed worn out, or injured…"

"Hannibal, you really don't think…" B.A. trailed off, gesturing blindly, his hands just flailing a little as he couldn't quite get the words out.

Hannibal just turned the television off, not answering.

He didn't know whether to hope he was wrong, or hope he was right.

* * *

 _-sorry it's late! also, sorry for any mistakes; the weekend turned out to be busier than i planned._

 _thanks, SB91, Pirateweasel, and la-hija-de-Dios for the reviews! :)_


	12. Living A Dream

Something wasn't right.

The four infamous friends looked at each other, each feeling the same rock of wariness sink in the depths of their stomachs.

Hannibal, standing only a step in front of the rest, looked back over his shoulder. "No Tawnia?"

"She said ten o'clock," Face ticked halfheartedly, "and it's only nine forty-five."

B.A. growled. "C'mon, man. Let's go in an' get this over with."

Hannibal rolled his eyes. "Hold your horses, B.A."

Murdock didn't know what to say. Instead he rocked on his heels and swallowed the lump in his throat. His whole experience at this place had been fuzzy at best, and now…

what if his savior had been injured the whole time?

Or…

no, that was ridiculous on his part. Murdock shook his head, earning a look from Face that floated between concerned and annoyed; the annoyance was B.A., grumbling about how the door to the garage was locked.

Murdock just shrugged at him and crossed his eyes, trying to keep Face unaware of what he was thinking.

After all, what could possibly be the odds the person on the other side of that door was a military plant?

It didn't make sense, though. The assassination attempt would've been all over the news.

And the A-Team would've been bagged on the spot, not a day later.

But still…

No, Murdock was sure he was wrong about this. It wasn't adding up in favor of a hasty mental red flag.

So, after B.A. grunted and knocked the already battered door off its hinges, they stepped inside, Face mumbling about B.A.'s need to renovate every door he ever encountered.

Hannibal whistled low. "This place…"

"Definitely not deserted," Face chimed, looking around at the mattress, the ball of blankets and pillows, the desk, the car-

woah. There was a car!

B.A. went over to it, stepping carefully over the minefield of tools scattered over the floor. "Hannibal, this is a Vette!"

That got Face's attention. "A what? Oh, where's a stupid light?"

"I got it, Facey." Murdock headed for a string dangling from the ceiling and gave it a yank, the bare bulb illuminating the place.

"Thanks, Murdock." Face's eyes went wide. "This is definitely a Vette… what year is it?"

B.A. shrugged. "How should I know, man? Name's been taken off, and the whole thing's been modified." He kept looking over the car as Hannibal and Murdock checked out the rest of the place. "Looks like it'll get better milage than your crazy ride," B.A. commented, his nose wrinkling.

Face sighed. "B.A., there are more important things in life than this car!"

But he was curious too. The car looked like it was a reject, probably having been in an accident and left at a junk yard. All the parts jammed into and onto the car had it rigged for definitely better mileage, and better speed. It was also tweaked for a more… unique, custom design. The car was repainted a charcoal color, bits of welded metal lining the doors and windows. It almost looked like something they'd make, but with more… more planning in design.

It looked interesting.

"Face…" Hannibal pointed to a door on the other side of the lift the car rested on. "Check in there."

The green sign on the door, though faded and chipped, clearly display it led into a small bathroom. "Why me?"

Hannibal smirked. "Well, you're the closest. Logic, Face."

Face nodded hesitantly and took a deep breath before wrapping his hand around the door knob and closing his eyes. He pushed the door open a bit, then peeked in.

Nothing.

The bathroom was originally decked in cream and green colored tile, but now it was all worn, despite the bucket of cleaning supplies sitting under the sink.

It was neatly kept, but definitely dated.

He closed the door, sighing in relief, then turned to the others. "Nothing."

"Where are they?" Hannibal mused aloud, looking around once more. He took notice of a sink against the wall by the car and walked past Face, turning the metal knob. A stream of lukewarm water poured out and into a cleaned out jar (with the pickle label from the store still glued on) under the faucet. He turned it off and frowned. "For an abandoned garbage heap, this place sure is set up well. They're only missing one thing-"

"Food." Murdock finished.

"A shower," Face chimed at the same time.

B.A. rolled his teddy bear brown eyes. "Oh brother."

Hannibal chuckled. "Still, no one's here. And if they're injured…"

They all could finish that thought without help.

Suddenly a loud screech filled the air and a crash shook the garage.

The four rushed outside wordlessly, all a bit shaken but quickly throwing their shock away as they laid eyes on a now crumpled police car, the officer inside unconscious.

"Face, B.A.!" Hannibal started giving orders. "Get him out and check him! Make sure he's alright!" Murdock followed Hannibal and they noticed the trunk had somehow popped open. Like it was never quite closed…

something was in there.

Face looked at their leader. "Hey, Hannibal. This guy's gonna have a mountain of a headache and some bruises, but he'll live. Looks like he fell asleep at the wheel. He looks exhausted."

"Alright… hey, Face…" Hannibal grunted as he slipped on his gloves and removed a suitcase from the trunk. He looked inside the trunk again and found a note:

 **Evidence for Pres. Assassination Case**

Murdock gasped. "Is that from that psycho Matt's loco lean-to?"

Hannibal nodded. "Yeah. Face, can you pick this lock?"

"Yeah." Face slipped on a pair of gloves as well and set to work on the combination lock on the case, which apparently the cops dealing with the evidence hadn't been able to crack, and in thirty seconds had it open-

Money.

"Fake?" Hannibal asked as Face, who was handling a group of hundreds.

He shook his head. "Nope. It's real… all one hundred grand of it."

"Well… Hannibal reached down and stuffed a few bundles of green into his pockets. "Let's take seventy thousand of it. After all, Matt does owe us for damages. And he did promise to pay our fee."

Face grinned grimly and he and Murdock loaded a bag from the van with the cash. He re-locked the case and they set it back in the car, closing the trunk this time.

B.A. figured the cops didn't need to case their helpful friend's place, so he ran inside, turned off the light, and reattached the door. Now, through the smudged windows, nothing of the inside's liveliness could be seen.

It looked old and abandoned once more.

After tending to the officer so he was stirring, the four bolted, the van pulling away as sirens sounded, coming to aid an injured comrade.

They were off to do the same, if they could ever find their little ghost...

* * *

 _-sorry for any mistakes! hope this was good enough... not much of anything happened :(_

 _thank you all so much for the reviews and support! :)_


	13. That I Can't Hold

Back the the hotel, they caught Tawnia up on every sharp twist and turn this adventure had taken them on, and she informed them her uncle (that was the sick relative) was back home after his heart attack. She looked as tired as they were.

And she was also just as ready to track down their helper.

After recapping and finally removing the bandages from Murdock's now healed wounds, they set off again, all five tucked into the van as they searched the city, heading for the suburbs.

Hannibal looked around at the houses as they passed, forgetting entirely about his constant need for cigars. "We might not find them at all," he said regretfully. "We have to understand that."

"I understand it." Face glared out his window at nothing in particular. He muttered, though,"I just don't want to accept it."

To Templeton Peck, it would be unfinished business if they didn't find this kid. He couldn't leave Littleford without knowing their helper was safe.

After all…

they were in danger.

Hannibal knew the feeling. The slightly softer side of John Smith wanted to find the person, someone who'd done far more than they'd needed to. The way he pieced the puzzle together showed a picture that this kid had risked their life to not only find the evidence to hand over Matt and his mercenaries, but also to get Murdock to safety so they could focus on Reagan's protection.

Now…

where were they?

Matt and his men were probably going to escape at some point. Hannibal knew they weren't dumb enough to stay in a cell.

But they weren't smart enough, either, to know they shouldn't run.

Their hourglass was almost out of sand.

They needed to find their vanishing act of a companion, and fast.

* * *

"The prisoners from Cell 4 have escaped! All building personnel please respond! Repeat, the prisoners from Cell 4 have escaped! Assistance needed!"

Matt smirked at his men. "Good thing we all got jammed in one cell due to those drunks. Right!" The six men flew around a corner, only one thing going through their excited minds:

the fact that the police car crash with a tampered evidence file had been outside Clark's garage.

If their loot was anywhere in that place, they knew they'd found one of two things:

the stalker who'd ruined their lives and trashed their oh so important reputations,

or the A-Team, who they owed the favor of burying six feet under.

* * *

Only an hour later, the elite team stood outside the garage, Matt smirking. "So this is what hole you crawled off into…" he mumbled, grinning madly.

He knew the A-Team wouldn't choose to crash here, but he was sure the evidence (their suitcase…he was amazed to overhear any money was left in the thing) tampering was courtesy of the fearless foursome.

"Matt, there's a gas can over here!"

How convenient…

"Torch this place," Matt ordered as he looked through window, intrigued by the feeble light from inside.

He could see the mattress, and on top of it, a mess of blankets covering a sleeping figure.

Why disturb the dead?

Or the soon to be dead?

He smirked. "Game's over now." He waved his hand and the place was instantly doused in gas, a lighter insensitively tossed into the one puddle and the place was ablaze in moments, Matt and his men long gone as the whole building burned to ash.

Matt's smile didn't die out, not at all. He was just glad that nuisance was gone.

After all, what was one more murder?

* * *

"-as we reported earlier, just two hours ago, a group of prisoners escaped from the city's police department. They are reported to be highly dangerous. If you see these men, do not approach-"

Hannibal turned off the radio. "Their faces are everywhere by now." He mumbled something under his breath that B.A. was sure was a curse as he flipped on the turn signal. "I wonder where they'll go now…"

"Hannibal, haven't you figured that out yet?" Face asked, incredulous.

"No," he turned in his seat and added, "but if you've already knocked out the solution, Sherlock, I'd be glad to hear it."

Face deadpanned. "I don't know where they are! But you somehow always do! So… where'd they go?"

"Uh, guys?"

Tawnia and Face turned in sync at Murdock's shaky tone. "What-"

He pointed out B.A.'s window and all five gasped in horror.

The garage was gone.

Instead, a heap of ash and some charred tools were surrounded by firetrucks and police, the area they were driving by roped off with police tape.

Hannibal swallowed heavily. "I… think I know where they went."

B.A. hit the gas and quickly got away from the scene. There was no doubt Matt and his idiot squad were behind this.

But… their friend…

Murdock sat in the back, shaken. He was hoping and praying whoever had helped him wasn't in there when the place became an inferno. If they were, nothing in heaven or hades would hold him back from unleashing his anger on Matt. His savior couldn't have been old enough to drink! The voice wasn't deep enough, the build wasn't tall enough-

what if they were a child?

Murdock shook his head to himself and just bunched in a ball in his seat, the rest of the ride quiet until Hannibal sighed. "We have to get out of here. Matt will come for us next."

A child though?

Murdock sighed too, not wanting to voice his sudden hunch.

After all, he wanted to be the first one to get his hands on Matt.

* * *

The van slowed to a stop on a dirt road a half hour from the city. Everyone clambered out, Murdock still silent.

Tawnia didn't know how to feel. Yes, she was sad over the loss of the person who'd helped Murdock; they all were. Even if she hadn't met them, she could tell the others had, and it was no light matter.

But at the same time, something just didn't seem quite right about the whole thing. The puzzle pieces weren't clicking together.

There was a slim chance they hadn't been in that building, and she knew the guys were secretly hoping - she was, too - that maybe, just maybe, they were alive.

Looking at the others' expressions, they all wore sad exceptance. They all just stood by the road, stretching their cramped legs from riding around the city to pick up some burgers and do a final patrol lap before hitting the road.

A crisp wind cut through the air as they just walked around in no particular fashion, just forcing the rivers of blood to once again reach their tired legs and feet. Face jammed his hands in his pockets and bit his lip, torn between anger and guilt over their helper's most likely demise. He stared down at his leather shoes and the tire tracks underfoot-

tracks?

"Hannibal!" Templeton knelt down, his eyes analyzing every little detail. Still damp like the rest of the dirt road from a shower the night before. So they were fresh. And looking up, Face folded his hands, still crouched down, he noticed they led far down the road.

The others were quickly at his side and instantly noticed the trail. "Follow it."

At Hannibal's two words, they set a brisk pace over the road, B.A. turning back to grab a gun and more ammunition. He kept his eyes peeled for the slightest rustle of grass.

Face and Murdock were in the lead, both anxious to see who it was; Face hoped it was nothing; Murdock hoped against all hope and reason it was-

the Vette.

The custom car from the torched garage was sitting about ten feet from the roadside.

"Oh thank God…" Hannibal's heart started climbing back up out of the pit of grief. This was good, right? If the car was here, the driver couldn't be far behind. And Matt wouldn't have wasted time in breaking in just for this vehicle. "Look around! Spread out!"

Quick nods from the group. The orders were followed, Hannibal finding the doors unlocked and opening one wide.

The car was loaded with tools, art supplies, the books, the papers, and a pillow or two and a thick blanket from the garage. A box of tissues and some duct tape sat on the dash, and a file-

the file!

They'd brought the information!

Hannibal went to reach for the file, but stopped. This was their matter, not his. Not his team's. Their mysterious helper was the one who needed to hand this over, anonymously or not. They'd gone through this much trouble to get the stupid thing. Instead, he knelt in the driver's seat and looked into the back.

He'd seen a lot in Vietnam. But…

something so simple had his stomach in knots.

Ripped shreds of what looked like old rags and shirts lay on the back floor, all washed in crimson. Hating to do so, Hannibal grabbed one up and fought the feeling to retch.

Fresh blood.

Only a couple of the cloths were wet, all the others dry and browned. He got out of the car, standing and shaking his head. Where-

"Over here!"

B.A.'s shout had the others rushing through the tall grass, Murdock strangely silent as he raced past Face. They had to be alive, they had to be alive… if it was even them.

All four stumbled onto a small creek about forty feet from the road, Murdock rushing to his side first.

B.A. held in his arms a limp figure in a stained jacket, a grey hoodie, and old jeans. Their shoes were basically destroyed, their pants ripped by their knee and a cloth like the ones discarded in the card was tied tightly over a large, glistening blood stain. Bruises marred what little they could see of their face, and their hands were scratched and blistered and callused. B.A. frowned. "They're burning up."

"Murdock?" Hannibal didn't even need to ask.

Murdock swallowed the lump in his throat. "I-It's them."

Tawnia slowly stepped over to B.A. and gently pulled off the hood, a mop of tangled, black hair falling in waves. "He's got some long hair," she commented, frowning at the unconscious kid's thin face. It was pale, but overwhelmingly smudged in dirt so their features were hidden. A low whimper of pain escaped their chapped lips and B.A. adjusted his hold. "Now what?" she asked, nervousness leaking into her tone. "We can't take him to a hospital. They're all in the city!"

"Bad Rock…"

No one quite caught what Face had said, so he repeated himself. "Maggie's not that far. She could help us."

Hannibal nodded. "We don't know how bad of shape they're in. Let's hurry."

B.A. looked over the kid and frowned. What were they? Eighteen tops?

And for a guy, they sure were skinny. There was some muscle, but their face looked a little too… soft.

Maybe it was just the mud and grime.

They hurried back to the van, Hannibal tossing a set of keys they'd recovered from the kid's coat pocket to Face. He started up the Vette and they were speeding towards Maggie, hoping their fevered friend wasn't in horrible shape.

But as Tawnia pressed a cool hand to their hot forehead, she was sure their fever was only spiking further.

The fire might not've claimed their life, but sickness or infection might.

 _-sorry about misspelling Tawnia's name before... not sure how that happened :( sorry for any typos :(_

 _thanks, Rynn Wolfe and la-hija-de-Dios for reviewing :)_


	14. Here I Am On My Own

Four in the afternoon.

Maggie was bored.

No one had been in to her office in the past two days. She'd cleaned all her equipment, then the house… then sat down and read a book she'd had out collecting dust for months now.

She wanted some excitement.

She needed something to do, anyt-

"Maggie!"

That couldn't be…

"Maggie! Please! It's an emergency!"

Hannibal?

She raced for the door, gasping in shock. "Hannibal? What's-"

"Got an injured boy with us. Got a sliced open leg, probably some cracked ribs, and a nasty fever."

Maggie's eyes went wide at the sight of B.A. cradling the thin form. Malnourished, dehydrated, the fever, sleep deprived… the mental list just grew and grew. "Bring them right in."

The whole team, and a girl Maggie hadn't seen before, entered, B.A. rushing to the room he'd been in when he was shot before. She shooed the men and their new friend out, closing the door and looking at the motionless body. Their chest rose and fell in uneven intervals, hitching at times with a click that signaled respiratory problems.

Time to get started.

Maggie started to pull off, as carefully as she could, the boy's t-shirt, and gave up, just grabbing a pocket knife in a side corner, slicing the stained shirt away. There were more shirts in the world, and there was no point keeping this rag-

oh boy.

Maggie looked to the door and fought a grim smirk.

The group outside was in for a shock.

Maggie was sure she'd just gotten more excitement than she bargained for.

* * *

An hour later, Maggie opened the door, closing it quietly.

"How is he?" Murdock asked immediately, jumping up from the couch with his hands clasped.

Maggie shrugged. "Three cracked ribs, a mild concussion, a stab wound on the leg which was infected, severely malnourished and dehydrated, and beyond exhausted."

"But he will recover?"

Maggie nodded. "They will."

Hannibal's head tilted ever so slightly. Maggie wanted to smirk at that. He was catching on. She continued. "The infection wasn't bad, thankfully, but the wound will have to be watched for the next couple days, just to be sure. Their fever's gone down, almost back to normal by now."

Hannibal couldn't take it. "You keep saying 'they', Doc…"

Maggie nodded. "Would you like to see them?"

Hannibal shook his head at her continuation of not using a gender specific pronoun. "Yeah." All five padded into the room behind her, the kid laying on a fold-out cot in the corner.

And Hannibal saw why Maggie refused to say "he".

Their hair, now brushed and cleaned, was long and wavy, reaching to their waist. Their cleaned face was thin, but definitely soft, not sharp and chiseled at all. Their entire build was highlighted under a still too big pale blue t-shirt, and they were on the brink of emaciated without the coats covering their taut-stretched skin and bones.

Still…

they were a very pretty looking young girl of about eighteen.

Murdock's jaw dropped through the floor. "You mean… s-she's the one who-"

"He's doing this to a girl?" Face wanted to do so many things to Matt, but none of them were something to mention around a kid.

"What's going on here?" Maggie inquired in exasperation.

Hannibal rattled off the whole breakdown as Murdock pulled over a chair and sat by the bed, gently running his fingertips through the girl's hair. He'd never seen their face too well.

Now that he had…

the lump that decided to permanently move into his throat grew. She was homeless to begin with. Now, her only place to get out of the elements was gone.

Suddenly Murdock felt her head turn under his hand. He continued his soft touch, hoping she'd stir. Maggie said she'd be alright, but he wanted to see for himself. She groaned weakly and her eyes opened, revealing a strange colored green-grey pair of irises. She blinked, then flinched away from Murdock's hand, still squinting up at him.

"Easy." Maggie poured a small paper cup of water and with Murdock's gentle hands had her propped up enough to take a few swallows. The girl seemed to understand she couldn't guzzle it down, but drained the cup regardless. "How do you feel?"

"Tired…" She coughed weakly, wincing. "Where am I?"

Everyone cringed at how hoarse she was. "Bad Rock." Hannibal figured he needed to answer, since no one was. "What were you doing on that side road?"

"Ran outta water." She swallowed, closing her eyes for a second. "I saw the creek and thought maybe it was clean enough to drink. Passed out before I… before I could find out."

Hannibal looked at the others. "Okay… why'd you take Murdock?"

She coughed weakly again. "I knew he was hurt. Figured we'd have our hands full with the assassination attempt. Knew… he'd be safe. Sorry for worrying you."

"Aw, no problem," Murdock grinned. "Everything worked out, and I'm fine. Unlike you. What happened?"

Instead of answering, the girl took a deep breath. "Is… is the garage gone?"

Face grimaced. She knew? "Yeah."

"Figures… I knew Matt would break out. I hid in my car when you guys showed up. Packed it with whatever was important and left." She closed her eyes again.

"Are you dizzy?" Maggie asked, refilling the cup.

She nodded, then winced again. "Y-yeah. From exhaustion I'm guessing?"

"Probably. Or the slight concussion. What happened to you?"

The girl took a sip from the cup that Murdock held this time. "Police in Littleford are good. But they miss a few things now and then. Like three guys attempting to mug an old man. Carved up my leg good, huh?"

B.A. growled.

Face was at a lost. "Colonel, why…" he didn't know who to even ask. Or what to ask.

The colonel looked the girl over. To ask, or not to ask… "What does Matt have against you?"

She smiled, her lips turning the same pale tone as the rest of her face as her heart switched back to its worn out beat. "That…" she feebly tried to speak, "is a long story-"

"-that will have to wait." Maggie cut in over her and shook her head. "My patient's still recovering here."

The girl smirked slightly, but winced as she tugged on the blanket covering her thin frame. Everyone could see how tired she was. Murdock helped Maggie pull a blue quilt from her hall closet over the girl as she instantly fell asleep, weak and worn out from everything.

Face looked at her a moment, then face-palmed. "Hannibal?"

"What, Lieutenant?"

"We didn't get her name."

B.A. shook his head, grinning. He liked this kid.

* * *

That night, Hannibal's mind decided to switch into overdrive; he couldn't sleep at all, so he headed for Maggie's kitchen hoping to get some coffee.

But when he stepped around the corner, Hannibal was in for a surprise.

There, at the table with a notebook and newspaper, was their young friend, a pencil in one hand, the other pressed to their forehead as they scribbled something down.

"Kid?"

The child didn't even jump. They just turned, smirking slightly. Hannibal could see the dark rings under their eyes, and that they were still whiter than a sheet. "Hello, sir."

"Sir? Do I really look that old?" Hannibal chuckled, sure the girl was like half the kids who would use the title sarcastically.

"No… I just meant it out of respect."

Hannibal did a double take as he sat down by her. This kid, who'd lived for quite obviously a long stretch on the streets, had a mouth that didn't match.

What was her story before living on her own?

Deciding to stepside the way she addressed him, John Smith looked at her papers. "What are you doing? You're supposed to be resting and recovering!"

"Had worse…" She just shrugged, coughing again. "I've gotten used to being dead on my feet. What's a little exhaustion to stand in my way?"

A smirk from the colonel. "Kid…" oh, right! "…we still don't know your name."

She barely looked up. "Not much to know there…"

Puzzled, Hannibal pressed it. "It's your name. That's important."

Another cough.

"Are you getting sick?"

The girl weakly shook her head. "No. Spent the first eight years of my pathetic existence with a heavy smoker." She regarded Hannibal for a moment. "You know those things'll kill you, sir."

"I don't inhale." Secretly, Hannibal admired that the kid didn't flinch like a kicked puppy after that comment.

She giggled softly, wincing at the pain in her ribs. "There's nothing that special to know about me. I just wander around and disappear when I have to. I'm a ghost. Police probably still want me locked up."

"For what?"

The girl coughed again. "Oh, you know… petty stuff that I'm not responsible for." She looked up at Hannibal sheepishly. "I thought I was a little stronger when I dragged myself out here… guess I was wrong."

"What were you doing?"

"Gotta find a job. Even without a roof over my head, I need the money. Food first. Then shelter. Then… oh, forget it. Maslow's stupid pyramid…" she yawned. "Sorry, sir. Didn't mean to be a bother. Not after all this…"

A bother? This kid thought she was a bother?! "What do you mean?"

"Like I said, I disappear when I need to… didn't do a good job this time." She started to stand and Hannibal was instantly supporting her before her shaking legs gave out. "Sorry about taking your pilot… now that I know he's a pilot. I just didn't think, if he was severely injured, anyone… would be in any condition to help him, not for a while after… after that fight."

Her voice got weaker and weaker with every word and just ten feet from the room, the girl passed out in Hannibal's arms. He smiled sadly and grimaced at how light the tall kid was. He slipped her back onto the cot, making a mental note to get her moved to an actual bed tomorrow.

She definitely deserved that much-

just like he deserved to know her stinking name!

* * *

 _-sorry for any typos :( i haven't been feeling so good lately._

 _thanks so much for all the reviews and support so far, guys! :)_


	15. I Hear the Crowds

"She's doing much better. But…" Maggie trailed off, eyes narrowed at Hannibal as he ate his breakfast of eggs and slightly too charred toast, "being up for an hour last night might've added to the exhaustion factor."

Hannibal shrugged and stuffed his mouth with eggs so he didn't have to face the fiery female doctor's wrath.

She shook her head and picked up her cup of coffee, trying with all her might to not chuck it at John Smith's head for not telling her. True, she'd been woken up by him shuffling down the hall, holding her slumped body. But still… he should've told her!

Oh, that man…

Murdock poked at his scrambled eggs a few times, trying to get his mind and stomach on the same page. One was screaming for food. The other was denying the need for the calories. "She'll be okay, though?"

Maggie grinned at his concern and nodded. "Still no name from her?"

"Nothing." Hannibal frowned, then said, "I wonder if anyone in Littleford would know who she is…"

Face nearly spit out his coffee at the pointed look the colonel shot him with. "No. No way, Hannibal. I will not-"

* * *

"- go door to door in some kooky disguise. And yet what am I doing? Going door to door in some kooky disguise!" Face grumbled under his breath, fighting with every ounce of will power to not rip off the itchy mustache that made him look like a gigantic woolly bear decided to make its home on his upper lip.

Well, anything was worth a shot if he found out more about the injured kid at Maggie's.

He stepped up to his tenth door and knocked, tapping his foot. "This… is completely ridic-"

The door opened and an elderly woman swung the door wide. "Hello, young man!" she greeted him warmly, smiling wide. Her blue eyes glittered. "What can I help you with?"

"Uh, well, first of all-"

"Mrs. Watson!" A man ran up the walk, his face covered in worry. "How are-" he stopped midstep. "Who's this?"

"I'm Mr. Franklin," Face grinned under the 'stache, sticking out his hand. "Nice to meet you both. I was just going around asking if anyone knows this one kid-"

"Ghost?" both interjected at the same time, looking excited.

Face frowned. "I, uh, I didn't get a name. But she was injured. She's with… a friend! Right now, she's with a friend."

"But she's alright?" Mrs. Watson asked, obviously concerned.

Face nodded. "Yeah… black hair? Grey-green eyes?"

The man nodded. "That's her. How'd you find her? She's never around. No one's seen her in almost a month!"

"She's still recovering," Face continued, both listeners saddened by this news. "Probably be there at least a week."

"If you'd like…" the older woman suggested, "she could stay here with me."

Hm… Face's interest was immediately piqued. "Ma'am, I don't know-"

"Young man, it's been a long time since anyone else has been in this house. And everyone knows that dear child is homeless. After all she's done for everyone else-"

Face couldn't stop himself. "What do you mean by that?"

The nice man by Mrs. Watson answered. "She always helps people out with stuff. Chores, yard work, car repairs, even filling in shifts at a couple of stores if they really need it. And she doesn't usually ask for any cash. It's just food or bottled water."

So much suddenly made sense.

Except…

"Does… did you say Ghost?" Face eaves his hand in question.

Mrs. Watson nodded. "Yes. No one knows her real name. She's never said. Ghost just somehow stuck worse than fly paper."

Face just nodded back, not sure how to formulate a response. "Does Ghost have any enemies?"

The kind woman looked to the other man. "What do you think, Nathan?"

Nathan shook his head after a moment of chin-scratching thought. "Um, not that I know of. Kid's quiet about her personal life. No one even knows how old she is."

Face sighed. So basically the entire neighborhood knew something about this kid. And they liked her.

So why did Matt hate the very air she breathed?

* * *

Hannibal couldn't help but wonder the same as he stopped by Maggie's spare room, the girl now resting on an actual bed. She'd protested, saying the cot was just fine. But B.A. and Murdock actually, miraculously, agreed on something and insisted on moving her to a softer mattress.

He wondered why she was so intent on hiding her real name…

"Can I help you?"

The question wasn't harsh or baited. It was just a simple question from the girl who regarded Hannibal with guarded eyes. She was always so cautious…

Hannibal Smith knew full well what that felt like.

"What's your name?"

She blinked. "I… told you already."

"No you didn't." Hannibal stepped into the room. "You never said your name."

She was quiet for a minute. Just as Hannibal was about to speak, she broke silence with, "No, I'm sure I told you, sir."

"Really? So…" Hannibal fought the urge to grab up a cigar and light it, knowing this kid didn't care for the stench of smoke, given the state her lungs were in already. "…would you mind repeating it?"

She smirked. "Well… It's not my real name, but it's what everyone's called me for years. I… my name is Ghost."

Now Hannibal blinked. "You're kidding."

Ghost laughed, propped up by pillows because she was still incredibly exhausted; the fever had left, but not without creating more aches and pains to handle. She was pale again.

Hannibal picked up the water bottle resting on the old night stand and handed it to her, after he twisted off the cap.

"Thank you." Ghost took two large gulps, then took a deep breath and looked around the room. "Not used to painted walls…"

The colonel followed her tired gaze. Pale green walls were definitely a far leap from brick and mortar. "Sorry about your place getting blown up."

"It's alright. Wasn't your fault anyways. It was mine…"

There was more to that thought, so much more… "What? For getting the file?"

The girl closed her eyes a second. "No. For… for just existing."

How did she figure that?

B.A. walked in before Hannibal got the chance to ask. "Hey, Hannibal." He smiled. "How you feelin', kid?"

She shrugged and opened her eyes. "Better than I have in a while. Really… thanks for helping me out. You didn't have to."

"You helped us. We're just returning the favor." Hannibal looked at B.A. "She has a name now."

"Really? I'll probably still jus' call ya 'kid', but…"

She grinned slightly, wincing. "I'm Ghost."

"Ghost?" B.A.'s lip tipped. "That's a crazy name."

"Sure is." She yawned. "Is… is it okay if I sleep?"

Hannibal frowned. "Yeah… you don't have to ask about that."

"Sorry. I just didn't want to be rude, sir…"

And with that, she trailed off into the deep, dreamy land of sleep.

B.A. adjusted the blankets so she stayed warm. "Ghost, huh?"

"She said everyone's called her that for years…" Hannibal shook his head and stated, "I wonder where she'll go after this."

B.A. nodded. "Me too. It's not that easy to jus' start over." He changed the subject as they looked her over once more to see if she was alright, then softly left the room with the door ajar. "Hannibal, I've been lookin' at that car of her's."

"And?"

"The kid musta rigged it herself. No parts are new, except for ones that are cheap. It's a great job, but it's not a permanent fix for most of the problems. The brake line's shot, the engine's about ta bust apart, the tire tread's gone, and it's leakin' oil. She patched it all up, but it's not gonna hold much longer, 'specially since I kinda took it all apart."

Hannibal bit his lip. "Now what kid, let alone a girl, rigs a car like this? She had to be expecting something…"

"You don't think she built it in case tha' fool Matt came afta her… do you?"

"She might've… but still…" Hannibal shook his head. "I want more information on her. I don't suspect her. It's just…"

B. A. finished for him: "Things aren't addin' up."

Hannibal nodded skeptically. "Exactly. Let's hope Face has some answers."

* * *

 _-sorry for any mistakes! and sorry it's late! :( i had a rough morning (looong story...) and i've just been so busy... but that's no excuse. sorry, guys :(_

 _thanks, LAGC, Guest, and Applejack ninja lover for reviewing! :)_


	16. Beneath Me

"Faceman!" Murdock held the door open as Face stepped into Maggie's, peeling off every bit of his disguise. "So, whatcha find out?"

Face sighed. "Well, I found out her name."

"So did we," B.A. announced from the sofa, holding a cool glass of milk. "It's Ghost."

"Really?" Face plopped down next to him. He groaned. "My feet are killing me! Okay, anyways… so, Ghost has been popping up at random in the city for five years now. The kid's been doing odd jobs in return for food or water or a few bucks. I even got an offer from an elderly woman who's really fond of her to take care of her while she's recovering."

Hannibal continued his pacing. "That might be a good option. But Ghost definitely needs another day of rest here before we even consider the move."

"No problem." Face fished a paper from his pocket. "She gave me her number. Everyone's been wondering what happened to her, and a couple of people suspected she died in the garage fire. But… the police believe she DID, and that's being printed in tomorrow's paper."

"She'll be an actual ghost…" Murdock held his head in his hands. "Aye! Camelot is doomed!"

"Shut up," B.A. threatened half-heartedly. "I say we move her. Get her back in an area she's used ta."

Tawnia walked in. "So…" she'd heard what was said previously, "any word on Matt?"

"None." Face shook his head and rubbed his sore temples. "But I think-"

"Maggie!"

The front door slammed open and in walked the town's sheriff. He almost raised his gun. Almost.

"You guys are back…" he trailed off, shutting the door slowly.

Hannibal nodded. "We had an injured plus one. She's recovering. We'll be out of your hair in a day, maybe two at most."

The sheriff of Badrock nodded. "That's fine. I won't say a word to anyone. How badly is she hurt?"

Maggie walked out and ran through the list, the sheriff's straight face slightly paling as it grew. "What brings you here, sheriff?"

"Littleford called. They have fugitives who broke out of a local prison after-"

"-an assassination attempt on Reagan," Hannibal finished, glaring at no one in particular. "They had exclusive government files that Ghost managed to grab."

"Ghost?"

Face jerked a thumb over his shoulder. "The kid who's recovering."

The sheriff nodded again and Hannibal continued. "That bit about President Reagan doesn't leave this room. Littleford's police department isn't leaking that information. Anyways, they broke out, blew up her only place to stay, and now we're all here, hoping some part of this whole matter makes sense."

"It makes sense," B.A. retorted gruffly, "all but the part about why Matt thinks this kid is a pain."

Tawnia nodded. "There has to be some history there."

Face shuddered. "I hope you don't mean THAT kind of history. She's way too young!"

"Actually…" Hannibal trailed off. "She's young enough to be his daughter."

Murdock sat up straight. "Colonel, you don't think…"

Everyone grew quiet.

Face broke the silence after a minute. "She does look like him."

Still unsure (but almost positive their newfound theory was correct), Hannibal had to ask, "But why… why would he go so far as to kill his own daughter?"

"I can answer that."

Everyone jumped and turned to face Ghost as she limped into the room, Maggie glaring disapprovingly, and a bit concerned for her young patient. "Let's just say… three's company."

"Do you always talk in riddles?" Hannibal inquired, putting away a cigar.

Ghost shrugged. "No. But I didn't grow up with that man. I grew up in different orphanages, always getting passed around because I was different…" she stopped and leaned on the back of the couch, getting her breath. "No one wanted to take home the misfit kid."

Face just looked away, regaining his composure quickly. This kid couldn't catch a break, could she?

"I got adopted, finally, when I was eleven. But the parents weren't nice. There best friends were bottles, lots and lots of empty bottles… so I ran."

Murdock and B.A. exchanged a shocked look, both doing the math. Five years on the streets…

she was only sixteen?!

Hannibal had to ask. "How did you find out about Matt?"

"I don't really know. But I overheard him talking to his team about a target, and I followed them. I didn't get a chance to stop them from killing the poor guy. I think he was a retired senator… that was a year ago. I kept tabs on them, and at one point almost got caught. Matt…" she stopped for a moment again, everyone seeing the similarities between her appearance and Matt's; she took more after whoever her mother was. "Matt screamed about me ruining his life, and I did some research. He was apparently involved with a cheerleader in college. They were… a bit too involved, and she didn't want an abortion. She died in childbirth… I'm just a walking disaster area."

Hannibal walked over to her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders to support her shaking frame. "No you aren't. You just got stuck with an unstable freak for a father." He spat out the last half, disgusted that Matt would make his own daughter feel this way.

The colonel guided her to the couch and had her sit down. Ghost curled into her usual ball, knees up to her chest, her back against the arm of the couch and her head resting against the back. She sighed. "I just want him to stop hurting people. It's my fault he snapped."

No one knew what to say, but they didn't need to as she immediately fell asleep, too tired to keep her eyes open.

Hannibal whirled around to face the sheriff. "Remember, not a word of this leaves this house."

He nodded. "I understand."

* * *

 _-hey! sorry this is late! :( i don't feel well, but i figured i'd get this up for you guys.  
_

 _sorry for any mistakes :(_

 _thank you guys so much for all the reviews :)_


	17. I'm Wishing They Could Reach Me

The sheriff left, and B.A. gently picked up the sleeping girl, taking her back to her room. Murdock followed, still quite attached to her. He was rambling about Camelot again, but B.A. didn't stop him this time. Something about his voice was calming for their young friend, who relaxed in B.A.'s strong arms whenever Murdock talked of the splendor of Camelot.

Face was furious. "I can't believe that idiot would hurt her so badly! And she thinks his little side business deals are her fault!"

Hannibal nodded sadly. "I know. But don't lose your head over this. His mistake sixteen years ago-" he'd done the math, too "-is his own fault. He could've had more control then, and he definitely could have more control now." John Smith spoke calmly, but inside he was ready to tear Matt and his bunch to bits. It took someone truly cruel to hurt a child.

And to think they'd almost worked for this lunatic.

Face was still glaring at anything and everything. "What happens when this all is settled, Hannibal? She has no home, no money, and her health is a mess. When we skip town, what happens to her?"

That was a good question. Hannibal shrugged. "I've been thinking' about that, actually. I'll need your help…"

* * *

A well-rested A-Team and guest left Maggie's early the next morning. True, Ghost wasn't as well-rested as the others, but it was far more recuperation time than she'd been blessed with in the last few years.

As soon as she got out into B.A.'s van the tired girl was fast asleep, curled into Murdock's chair. He sat on the floor beside her, gently holding her slack hand as she slept. She would whimper occasionally, alerting the others to the fact that her wounds were deeper than a few scratches and scars.

Hannibal kept turning around in his seat as they drove, B.A. glancing back from the driver's seat whenever the child groaned weakly in her sleep. She definitely needed the rest.

And they definitely needed to reach Ghost's old benefactor before eight o-clock.

Matt was still loose, and each A-Team member was itching to get their hands on his sorry excuse for a soul.

* * *

 _-short, i know! sorry :( and sorry for any typos! the next chapter will be longer to make up for this one... i've just been so busy that i didn't get to really write much. :(_


	18. But I'm on Top of the World

Ghost was exhausted.

While that was nothing new… the ride back to the city had drained her.

She was so tired. Mentally tired, physically tired, emotionally tired…

She coughed weakly as she rested on kind Mrs. Watson's cloud of a bed. The periwinkle walls were comforting, and the light stain on the wood helped add to the calm feeling she got from the room. There was no need for stress here.

But only two hours here and…

she was bored.

Okay, she was a nice old lady. But the A-Team were out hunting down her father. And she needed to help.

But… they told her to rest…

Ghost grinned as she realized something. "They never said how long I had to rest…"

* * *

Mrs. Watson loved Ghost.

She clicked her tongue as she poured a warm cup of hot cocoa for the sleeping child upstairs. "Poor girl…" a glance at the paper on her kitchen table sent another chill down her spine. "She needs the help now more than ever…"

As she dished up a bowl of calm chowder and grabbed some crackers, Mrs. Watson frowned at the headline.

MYSTERIOUS GHOST VANISHES AFTER ARSON.

The article said she'd died in the fire, not that she'd started it.

So…

What was the real story? Mrs. Watson knew the child upstairs wasn't the arsonist; there was no way. She just knew. She could feel it in her earth-worn bones.

She took the tray of food up to her tired guest and smiled sweetly at the site.

Ghost was curled under two quilts, the fluffy purple pillows under her head shifted so she was hugging one.

"Ghost?" Mrs. Watson quietly tried to wake her as she gently rubbed her shoulder. "I have some food for you."

Ghost's eyes opened, the black circles beneath them prominent as she paled. "Huh?" she asked weakly, Mrs. Watson helping her sit up. "Mrs. Watson, I'm sorry. Did I do something wrong?"

"No sweetheart," she soothed the nervous teenager. "I just brought up some food for you."

"Oh. Thank you." Her eyes went wide at the food being offered. "I… is this all for me?"

Mrs. Watson struggled to keep smiling; it wasn't like the tray was full. "Yes. You're far too thin."

Ghost shook her head. "I… I'll help you out around here. I'll pay you back, I promise!"

"There's no need to. You deserve help after all you've done for everyone else." Mrs. Watson wanted to wring the neck of whatever heathen had caused Ghost to stumble into so much misfortune. "Just relax."

"O-okay. Thank you." Ghost smiled a tiny smile, praying silently for a moment before starting to inhale the food placed in front of her.

Mrs. Watson just pulled a chair close to the bed and grabbed up a basket of yarn, continuing to work on her afghan. "If you don't mind my asking," she waited a while before speaking, "what happened to you that you disappeared?"

Ghost froze for an instant, recovering quickly. "I'm not friends with everybody," she said in a near whisper, eating a couple of the crackers.

"Who could possibly have anything against you?" Mrs. Watson asked incredulously, gaping at the horror that someone wanted to harm this girl.

A low sigh came from Ghost as she replied, "You'd be surprised, Mrs. Watson."

* * *

 _-okay. this is filler, this is late, and i apologize :( I really have no excuse :(_

 _sorry for any typos :(_

 _the next chapter might be up a week late. but it'll be extra long if it is!_


	19. Up Here

"Hannibal, Matt just walked over the ridge."

"Yep. The gang's all here… yay."

"Camelot has been threatened!"

"Shut up, fool!"

Hannibal chuckled softly, loading his gun and slinging it over his shoulder so he could get a better look through his binoculars. "I see him. And Murdock?"

"Yeah?"

"Get those bombs ready. This has to be good."

Murdock's static and British accent crackled in the walkie. "You got it… can I hit them? Ya know, BA-BOOM, with guts?"

Face came over. "As much as we'd all like to see their corpses splattered out over the countryside, we have to wait."

"Okay…"

Hannibal glared through his binoculars, glad Face had answered for him.

He'd almost given Murdock a yes…

As he knelt behind a dried out bush and midnight hung in the sky, Hannibal wondered how Ghost was doing. He hoped she was too tired to try and help.

He didn't want her in the crossfire, and he didn't want her around to see if his temper - which had been whittled down to that of a twig - snapped and Matt wound up with more holes than Swiss cheese.

It hurt deep inside to know she'd been hurt like this. True, he and his team had seen a lot.

But Ghost wasn't even an adult.

She was supposed to be hanging out with her friends, home with a loving father and mother and a refrigerator filled with food. She was supposed to be looking at colleges, at job options…

and she had none of it.

Hannibal wanted some sliver of revenge for her. But he didn't know how to go about it. This was Ghost's fight, and he was sure her idea of revenge would be satisfied when she was well enough and turned over that file on her father and his fiendish friends' dabbling in assassination.

"Hannibal?" Face's voice sparked with hot anger. "Get ready…"

* * *

"Ghost?"

Mrs. Watson smiled as Ghost devoured another small meal. Her breakfast was some simple scrambled eggs and lightly buttered toast, and it was almost gone.

Ghost looked up, swallowing quickly. "Yes, ma'am?"

"How do you feel? You look much better."

"That's good." She scarfed down the last bite of food and pushed off the blankets. "Thank you so much, Mrs. Watson. For everything."

"Sweetheart, where are you going?" Mrs. Watson gently grabbed the child's shoulders. "You need to rest!"

Ghost smiled sadly. "I will when my friends are safe. I can't let them face this alone."

"But they told you to rest-"

"And I will." Ghost started walking out of the room, grabbing her bag that B.A. had plopped on the one chair in the room for her. "But not right now. I have to help them." She sighed. "I really appreciate you helping me, especially with all our… secrecy."

Mrs. Watson was almost crying, wondering how Ghost had been dealt such a terrible hand by life. "When this - whatever it is - is all over, you're more than welcome back here."

Ghost just smiled and said one last thank you before bolting out the door.

"Ghost," Mrs. Watson whispered as she watched her fast figure disappear down the street, "I hope you know what you're doing."

* * *

"Hello?"

Ghost steeled herself quickly. "I need to speak to Colonel Richards."

There was silence on the other end of the line for a moment. Hesitation… oh boy. "Who is this?"

"I have information on the party who murdered Senator Collins."

That had her audience's attention. "Transferring you to Colonel Richards now, miss."

"Thank you." Grace slipped in another coin, hoping to keep the line open. She had thought it through as much as she could, and all signs led to Hannibal taking the high road and taking Matt's crew out to Matthias Field. Dry, secluded, and far enough away that any kill shots wouldn't be heard in the city.

She didn't know if she wanted her father dead.

No, scratch that. She did know; she didn't want to see him die. But if he happened to… she didn't think she would honestly care.

"This is Colonel Richards."

"Sir…" Ghost took a deep breath. "I have information on who is responsible for Senator Collins' murder. And I know for a fact that the people behind it are currently fugitives."

"I'm guessing you're not going to tell me who you are."

"No, sir. I'm willing to meet you and give you the information I have."

The Colonel tsked in the phone. "Are you alone?"

"Yes, sir. And I will be later." She could hear him talking to someone else on his end of the line. Probably trying to trace her. Good luck. "Meet me in Smith's Grill's parking lot at noon." And she hung up.

Ghost spun out of the drug store and bolted, her hood thrown up over her head instantly.

Now she just had to wait.

* * *

Matt was mad.

Okay, so he was always mad.

But right now, he was really mad.

His whole plan was falling apart.

And so was his life.

He had to salvage this trainwreck. He just had to.

Getting rid of his daughter had been easy. Now she lived up to her name, thanks to a petty case of arson stamped onto his lengthy record.

All that was left was to find the A-Team.

They ruined their job. Their reputation. Their connections…

They had to run from this mess and start over with a clean slate.

Matt gripped his gun tighter as he addressed his men on the edge of Matthias Field, the darkness not abel to mask his raging flame of anger. "I don't care how we do it. I don't care who gets involved. We end this. I want the A-Team ready to be dropped off on the city's doorstep in body bags. Am I clear?"

A group of nods answered, everyone tense with anger and a pinch of apprehension.

After all, Matt was never the coolest under pressure.

* * *

Ghost could already feel her fatigue coming back. The waves of nausea and flickering vision had her gripping the brick wall biting into her back. "Any minute now…"

A grey car pulled up and into the grill's parking lot, and Ghost straightened up slightly as the Colonel's average build of a frame stepped from the driver's seat. His critical blue eyes picked her out and he stepped over, glancing around.

Currently alone.

Good.

Colonel Richards drew back the edge of his coat, revealing an empty gun holster. "Do you have the information?" he asked dully, his anticipation of… well, something unreadable only showing in his eyes.

Ghost nodded and grabbed the file from under her loaner of a jacket, courtesy of Murdock saying she needed a coat like his. No decal on the back, but the leather helped with the intense winds ripping through the town.

The Colonel took the file and weighed it in his hands. "How do I know you aren't setting me up?" he hissed.

Oh well. Ghost shrugged it off, knowing it was his job to not trust anyone. "I almost died to get you that file," Ghost said evenly, neglecting to mention how many times she almost died.

"That proves nothing."

Ghost shrugged and started to walk away. "Then sir, I don't know what else to tell you," and left him standing in the lot alone.

What she didn't see was the Colonel's face as he flipped through the file and frowned. "Why does she seem familiar?"

* * *

As soon as she was away from her contact, Ghost found a quiet alley, marked with vulgar spray paint and the stench of garbage. It wasn't a place anyone else would really go.

So that's where she went.

Her overload of emotions and thoughts was starting to catch up with her, along with her half-healed level of exhaustion. She could still feel the effects of her mild concussion as it struggled to leave her without damage. And she was sure she was far too cold for this time of year…

Ghost sighed and curled into her usual ball, not sure what to ask or hope for at this point.

She was tired of fighting, and she just wanted this to end.

* * *

 _-i'm so sorry this is late! just... i have no excuse. sorry, guys :(_

 _sorry for any typos :(_


	20. I'm Dying Alone

_-Merry Christmas! (Or... Merry 6 Days til Christmas!) sorry about the wait, guys. :(_

 _annnd... last chapter, i accidentally typed "Grace" instead of Ghost… sorry about that! i got mixed up with Rainbow Veins (which I finished… i'm not sure how that happened, but it did) and did that several times. I thought I caught them all… sorry!_

 _anyways, continue on!_

* * *

Hannibal's voice rang out over the countryside, his anger loud and clear. "Okay, scumbags, come crawling out of the dirt and drop your guns."

A cold laugh was the response. "Fat chance, Smith!"

Face tried not to laugh. "Sounds like Decker," he muttered over the walkie.

Hannibal grinned. "All scum sound the same."

Murdock screamed, a wild Tarzan yell spooking everyone within range. (Hannibal didn't flinch… he had a cramp! Okay, maybe he did flinch.)

Several explosions rocked the field, sending showers of dead grass over the newly christened battlefield and Matt growled. "SMITH! WHERE ARE YOU?!"

"Aye! I am wounded by this mistake! For this blow was not dealt by a measly Smith, but by mighty Camelot!" Murdock bellowed in a British slur.

Matt cursed. Hannibal chuckled. Face shook his head, grinning. And B. A. hated to admit that he was enjoying this.

"SMITH! YOU SON OF A-"

"Watch your mouth, idiot!" Hannibal yelled. "Or I might not be as nice as your mother and instead shove in a round of bullets. I'm generally trigger-happy, and even more so since you took your daughter's life!"

Face frowned and pressed his walkie to his lips. "Uh, Hannibal... she's not dead." Face had the distinct feeling their young friend wasn't resting like they thought...

"Matt doesn't know that. Far too many people believe everything they read."

"Ah. I should've guessed."

Matt's voice was... sickly cold and heartless. "So what? All that brat did was mess up my life. She killed my best friend!"

The effrontery of this moron! "She was a baby!" Face couldn't hold back, his tone biting. "It wasn't her fault you two couldn't control yourselves!"

Matt cursed loudly.

"What did I just say?" Hannibal tsked condescendingly before opening fire at the blob of shadows.

Matt's men scrambled into the bush as the other three opened fire, Murdock hurling an explosive that caused someone to scream. He laughed. "Oh, the beautiful sound of injury! The Blood Lady might make some cash tonight!"

Hannibal smirked. "You have a special on if they buy in bulk?"

"Not for these suckers."

* * *

Ghost really wished she had a car.

Her car, preferably.

But at this point any car would do.

Any. Blasted. Car.

She was sure she'd injured her ankle last night; she convinced herself it wasn't major, even though the surge of pain rushing immediately to her empty stomach with every step said otherwise.

But she could fix that later.

If she lived to spell out her side of this whole calamity.

Ghost stumbled and just plopped down on a bench, the dark sky overhead hiding her face. She had heard about the article, seen it, read it...

It was an odd feeling to know the world thought she was dead.

But that was working to her advantage... what little there was.

She sighed, brushed herself off, and stood unsteadily. She was going to find a car. Or bike.

Or...

she grinned at what was lying under a pile of trash by a deli.

This might work.

* * *

 _-yep, it's short. sorry :( but that means i may or may not have another chapter up! and it may or may not be before Christmas! :)_

 _sorry for any typos :(_


	21. No Room

Several people were puzzled by the blur whizzing past their cars on the way out of town, cutting through the morning traffic like butter.

A couple of cops were sure they'd been seeing things.

But no, they were not.

It was a teenager.

On a skateboard.

On the road.

Yep.

Ghost grinned as she passed another ten cars. "Have fun in this mess," she mumbled, her smile wiped away as a jolt of pain consumed her leg. The pain was spreading.

But that wasn't important.

The A-Team, if she was lucky, hadn't confronted Matt yet. If they had... then it all depended on the outcome if the odds were in her favor.

Ghost was feeling a little unprepared, regardless of what her new friends chose to do. She had no weapons. No knife. No gun. No nothing.

And she was rushing in blind.

* * *

Matt cursed as he woke up, his head pounding.

All night, the A-Team had fired off round after round, setting off multiple bombs and chucking in a grenade every so often to change things up-

and apparently, they also placed a few surprises in the field.

Like mines.

So he and his men had been trapped, forced behind a large group of rocks surrounded in dead grass and yellowed weeds. They were all exhausted to begin with, and ended up passing out and into the realm of sleep.

He rolled over and noticed his men were still out. Matt sat up, glaring at everything in sight like it was his mortal enemy. He slowly peeked around the rock.

No A-Team in sight.

But whether they were here or not wasn't as important as the fact that the field was covered in mines. He was the only one who knew it for sure; the others were probably thinking it had been just another bomb.

They'd set off one last night, somehow, and Matthew Sommers didn't want any of his team blown to Kingdom Come, right?

He smiled grimly as he looked over his men, calculating only for a moment. "It was nice knowing you guys."

* * *

Almost there...

It was noon. It was sunny.

And Ghost was almost to the field.

She pumped her foot off the ground, propelling herself forward as fast as she could. If there was a confrontation, it was over by now. There might be aftermath...

or not.

Or-

BOOM!

An explosion rocked the peaceful countryside and Ghost was knocked from the board by the force of the blow. The skateboard slammed into a rock and cracked in half, a wheel skidding off and rolling down the well worn road.

Ghost slammed into the road, not time to brace for rocky impact. Instead her forehead was battered by slivers of rock that ripped skin away in bloody streaks. Her hands and neck faired the same, and her clothes, new from Mrs. Watson, were dashed open and scuffed as she finally hit the hard ground face down.

"Ow..." Ghost pushed herself up on shaking arms and fought the urge to throw up at the side and feel of blood dripping off her chin and onto the dusty road.

She still had to get to the field.

No matter what transportation it took.

* * *

The A-Team didn't care what Matt did after their last round was fired.

It was all for show. A scare tactic. No one thought well, planned well, or acted well when under the influence of an angry rage.

They sat in their van at noon, cleaning their guns and listening to the radio, like there was nothing going on at all.

Murdock sighed. "Am I the only one wonderin' how Ghost is?"

Face shot him a sideways glance. "No."

B.A. shrugged in concern. "Hopefully she's restin'. But I got the feelin' she ain't..."

"She won't be." Hannibal replaced his cigar and sighed, continuing to clean his gun.

Murdock looked out the window wistfully. "Wherever you are," he whispered, "I hope you're safe."

* * *

Ghost had reached the field.

Staggering like a drunk and clumsier than an ox, she managed it.

Looking across the afternoon lit field, something wasn't right... whether it was just the apprehension eating away at her empty stomach or the knot of worry pounding under her skull, she didn't know.

But there was one thing she did know...

this field didn't have red flowers.

This field was dead.

And only thirty feet away...

there was red sprayed over the stuck up shoots of dead and dying weeds.

Ghost swallowed thickly and slowly trekked over, not wanting to see but knowing she had to-

oh God, no.

Forgetting all exhaustion, Ghost ran from the field after only five steps, falling against a nearby tree and gagging.

Bile rose in her dry throat and before Ghost could react she was sent into dry heaves, nothing coming up at all.

Stinging tears rolled down her cheeks instead as she gasped for air. "W-why..." she punched the tree trunk weakly and just collapsed under it.

But only for a moment. She couldn't be here, couldn't be near...

that.

She'd known her father was heartless, but now... the evidence pointing toward his spiral from sanity was the dismembered and gory remains of two of his men.

Ghost got up and started to push herself back towards town, away from the bloodshed with a new determination.

Her father would be stopped.

She didn't care what it took.

She didn't care if she died in the process.

Her father was destroying lives, and world relations, with his actions.

His reign of horror was about to end.

* * *

The files from an unnamed teenager were swiftly sent through military intelligence.

And red flags went off left and right.

Units were being dispatched from across the state, all flying towards Littleford with guns loaded, weapons stocked, and clearance granted for whatever actions were necessary.

And they weren't alone. The F.B.I. was bringing up the rear, handling all the investigations and tearing apart Matt and his henchmen's lives without mercy.

This group was dangerous.

Littleford had to be warned. That was a decision no one disagreed with. The state's news companies ran the headlines shoved at their anchors. The state's borders were restricted.

There was no in or out.

Littleford's police did the same to their city, maintaining the traffic and blocking up the roads with checkpoints.

The citizens were angered. Angered that anyone in their city was a mercenary. And a bit angry at the fact they had no idea who the group was.

It was officially open season for six men. (Well, four. But the government didn't know two were blown to bits at their leader's orders.) The threat of the A-Team possibly being in the area was washed out.

As the next day came, time stood still over Littleford.

And it wouldn't start again until the traitors were hauled away, either in chains or body bags.

* * *

 _-merry almost Christmas! or happy Christmas Eve! :) (this is a small Christmas present for you all. i wanted to update Turn Around as well, but... yeah, um, that chapter's really intense and involved, so consider it a late Christmas present... sorry :( )_

 _nice... chapter, huh? (okay, i really feel like this sucked... sorry if it did- i tried! i just don't feel well. and sorry for any typos :( )_

 _thanks, Neon Wish Likes Pine Trees, la-hija-de-Dios, Maniac at Midnight, and LAGC for the reviews! :) (hopefully i didn't mess up anyone's names. if i did, i apologize.)_

 _happy holidays, everyone! :) God bless!_


	22. For Heart and Soul

Ghost woke up to someone's radio blasting.

Jumping from her cramped ball, she fell onto the ground with a wince. "Wha-"

"The government has ordered the entire state's highways and interstates to be closed off. These actions are a result of information that mercenaries are in the state. Their location is classified, and all travel in and out of the state is restricted, except for emergency vehicles. Citizens are advised to not travel, unless it is for work or emergency reasons. More on this story as it unfolds. In other news, Syria-"

"HEY!"

The radio report was cut off by a shout. Ghost jumped up from her little rocky bed under a tree, sure she'd gotten sunburn. Or an infection and fever. Or all of the above. She looked up at the green Ford whose radio she was listening to in her half-asleep state. The driver, a gruff man with glaring blue eyes, stared her down. "Who're you? Some vagrant lookin' for a handout?"

"N-no, sir." Ghost sighed and pulled off her hood. "I was just sleeping out here. Sorry for botheri-"

"You're that Ghost kid," he breathed, shocked. His impetuous anger dying quickly. "You- you ain't dead?"

She smiled slightly. Was the world spinning? "Not if I can help it, sir. Um... how much farther is town?"

"Two miles. But... why?"

"Why what?"

He shook his head. "Why you lettin' folks believe you got burnt to a crisp?"

"Element of surprise... I hope." Ghost smiled once more. "Thanks for... letting me eavesdrop."

"No problem, kid." The driver grinned back and drove away.

Ghost sighed. "Two miles..." she shrugged and started walking despite the pain. "Could be worse..."

Her first stop was her "stash" on 94th street.

Getting there would take some time-

just enough time to come up with a plan.

The A-Team probably would be going to visit the battleground. They'd see... the new damage Matt had done. They had to have heard the news by now, too. How everything was blocked.

They wouldn't be planning yet.

At least, she hoped not.

This had to run just like the assassination attempt: she had to pull the strings.

And not because she knew more than the A-Team.

Because it was her fight first.

* * *

Hannibal's scowl was mirrored on the other three's faces as they turned from Mrs. Watson's door, Tawnia staying behind at the elderly woman's house in case Ghost showed up. "She left... almost two days ago. She left."

Face grimaced. "We never did... specify how LONG she was supposed to rest, Hannibal."

"Don't try to explain her logic with my own tactics."

Murdock snickered as he slid open his door on the van. "She's a sneaky one."

B.A. nodded. "She's smart. But also stupid. Why you think she left, Hannibal?"

Hannibal started to answer with, "I don't k-"

but he stopped.

Because he did know.

"The file. She handed in the file. That's why the government's closing in."

Face grimaced again, his face a shade paler. "Great. So we're dead meat, too. Matt goes down and we wind up sinking too."

"Not necessarily. We just can't travel until the ban is lifted. Besides, they're now the top threat around here. Not us."

The group sat in the van quietly for a minute.

Hannibal sighed. "No point in checking the battle field. We scared Matt. Stalled him and his posse. Ghost has been busy. We wound up buying her time."

Murdock frowned and tapped Hannibal's shoulder. "Forgive me, oh mighty Knight of Camelot, but there be-ith this one problemo. What shall we doeth in the meantime?"

"We wait. Ghost obviously has something in mind. Like stopping the attempt on Reagan- we wait. She'll get in touch with us soon if she's cooking up something." Hannibal pulled out a cigar. "This is her game now."

The other three members nodded silently. Hannibal was trusting Ghost. They had to as well.

Far too many lives depended on it.

* * *

Ghost coughed and, around two in the afternoon, stumbled onto her stash. Several unloaded rifles, a pile of ammo spilled from its container, a roll of rope, and a stick or two of dynamite.

Not much...

but it was enough to get things rolling.

Ghost frowned and sifted through her stash again. The loose weapons were abandoned by others; she'd just cleaned them up and hid them so a curious kid didn't snap them up and end up with an extra belly button... through their skull.

"Huh..." she coughed again, her throat dry. There... there was a weapon missing, a nice throwing knife. No, she couldn't throw it. But it was better than her dull pocket knife.

And it wasn't here.

Overwhelmed by fatigue and dizziness, Ghost leaned down, panting. Her chest ached, and her hands shook violently.

This had to be an infection.

Something shifted behind her and Ghost cringed as a shadow fell over her just as she started to regain her senses.

"Well, well, well..."

Ghost's chin was grabbed and she was spun so she faced the voice, being held two inches off the ground by the grip.

Her glassy eyes stared straight at her father's. "Like father, like daughter. We think so much alike."

Ghost gasped for a second, his grip slipping to her throat. "My mind's not twisted like yours."

"Oh, yes it is." Matt squeezed harder, his remaining men stepping up behind him. "You know it is. My blood runs through your veins, you brat."

"B-blood doesn't determine character. Choice does," Ghost spat weakly, starting to struggle as the air almost completely left her lungs.

Matt grinned sickly. "Well, I have a very important choice to make that concerns you. Revenge. For how much you screwed up my life."

Ghost wanted so badly to say "is keeping your clothes on that hard?" but she was ready to black out.

"And..." Matt smirked, throwing her to the ground roughly. "I choose revenge. Painful revenge."

* * *

 _-happy new year! :)_

 _sorry this is late! this has been a... very eventful Christmas break. the next chapter should (hopefully) be up next sunday!_

 _sorry for any typos :(_


	23. No Room for Innocence

The city was far too quiet the next morning.

No lull of car engines in the morning traffic. No flurry of chatter. No children laughing as they headed for their friends' houses.

Nothing.

The cops glanced at each other as they left the station, MP's following close behind.

Something was coming. Something big...

and it rolled up to the station in a khaki car with flashing lights.

"Colonel Decker," the one MP greeted in surprise. "With all due respect, sir, I thought you... were on leave after the incident with the A-"

"I was called back in," the Colonel spat. His irreversible scowl hardened further. "I was told I would be briefed here-"

"Alright."

The group of security men turned at the foreign voice. Their eyes widened at the sight of their very target standing on top of Decker's car, legs planted directly over the car's blazing lights. A machine gun lay in his twisting hands, the trigger always under the pressure of his finger. "I'm who you're looking for."

All guns were immediately trained on Matt, who looked like a filthy madman in immaculate dress. His skin was smudged with dirt, his dark and slightly greyed hair standing up on end like it'd just returned from a meeting with a balloon. His blue eyes burned with fury, and yet... looked dead inside.

This was his last stand.

"Ah, I wouldn't act in haste," the wanted man teased, smirking as he shifted the gun again. "My men have positions taken up all around the block. We have Grand National Bank and its adjoining offices under our control. One hundred and twenty- seven hostages... wouldn't you like to see them live?"

One of the soldiers toward the back switched on his walkie-talkie earlier, when Matt started his rambling. The entire squad of over two hundred cops and soldiers were listening now as the rant continued: "I thought that would get your attention. Now... if our demands are not met within the next hour, we will begin letting the hostages leave in two minute intervals, with a bullet through their skulls. Our demands are simple: one bullet-proof car, a new supply of guns and ammunition, and five hundred thousand dollars."

But there was more. "We also want the A-Team to surrender themselves. They are here in your city, and we despise them as much as you oh so honorable military men do. Remember, you only have an hour."

Matt kept his gun trained at the soldiers and cops' heads and jumped from the car, running down the empty four lane road.

Decker smirked. "Briefing done. We can catch both this idiot and the A-Team. Now-"

"Sir," one private in the back of their group spoke up, being the one who'd clicked on their walkie-talkie and still had it on, "the orders from Washington are to only pursue the mercenaries. Not the A-Team."

"I don't care what the orders are!" Decker thundered. "This is the chance this country has been waiting for! That I'VE been waiting for!"

"DECKER!"

Everyone jumped as the walkie squawked. The private sheepishly handed it to Decker, everyone in awe that he'd had a chance to turn it on. That meant there were wheels turning elsewhere, that the higher-ups in the area had heard. Decker's scowl returned full force. "What do you want, SMITH?"

A laugh came from the speaker. "It's so sweet you care about us. But now is NOT the time. We heard Matt's demands. We can stop him before your time runs out."

Decker glared at the device. "No deal! You're just a group of mercenaries, too. You could be on his side."

"I know you won't believe me, but we don't side with scuzz like him."

Decker snorted.

"My mother always taught me to tell the truth. I did. You didn't listen, and time is running out for those hostages, not to mention this city."

"Is this Hannibal Smith?" another voice snapped over the line, everyone recognizing it as that of Colonel Richards.

"It is."

A sigh came from Richards' end. "What do you want in return?"

"A week with no pursuit of any kind. We help you, you leave us alone for seven days."

"NO DEAL!" Decker repeated, fighting the urge to smash the walkie-talkie.

"Decker, I rank higher than you," Richards bellowed over the line. Another sigh. "It's a deal, Smith. If, and only if, you manage to get these men in our custody before the time is up."

The conversation ended there and Colonel Decker threw the walkie at its owner, storming back to his car as news vehicles raced by. He checked his watch.

It was ten twenty-four.

The demands were made at ten nineteen.

That left fifty-five minutes.

He glowered at the steering wheel of his car. "So help me, Smith..." he punched the wheel, the horn sounding. "I'm going to bust you. I will. I will!"

* * *

Hannibal groaned. "Ghost isn't making a move." He adjusted his gun and handed off the binoculars to B.A. "We go in."

"Hannibal..." Face trailed off uncertainly. "Are you sure?"

Sensing his men's hesitance towards the action, Hannibal sighed and said with his usual authority, "The building is still under Matt's control. The police and army are waiting on us. And Ghost is nowhere with forty minutes left." He straightened his back and spat out his cigar. "We go in. Murdock, we need eyes in the sky. Get a bird and get it in the air."

"Yes, sir." Murdock rushed off, knowing of a news station just down the block. An easy scam and he'd be up with the birds in no time.

"B.A. and Face, you two get in through the top. I don't care how."

Both nodded. "What about you?" Face asked, grabbing more ammunition.

"I'm blasting through that front door." Hannibal smirked grimly. "It's now or never."

* * *

But... Hannibal's plans have their rough spots.

That being that all three men were now captured by Matt's idiots and in the lobby of Grand National Bank.

B.A. glared at Hannibal. "This was a great plan."

Face rolled his eyes and nodded.

Hannibal just shrugged. "Why? I thought it was going just fine."

An attempted face-palm from an exasperated and worried Templeton Peck (having hands tied behind one's back hindered this greatly). "Hannibal, we have been CAPTURED! We are now hostages. And we left Murdock to fly solo! Literally!"

B.A. growled at Matt, who rushed over with his gun aimed for the kill if necessary; but the team knew from his stance and his shakiness it was all a bluff, all for theatrics. He smirked, feeling apparently like he'd spooked the A-Team. He turned around and glanced at his watch. "Eighteen minutes... then the first hostage goes out." He looked over all the bound people seated in the lobby, walking slowly towards an elderly woman. "Maybe you first... they pity the old."

The poor woman whimpered as Matt turned and looked at a teenage boy whose eyes burned with anger and fear. "Or maybe you. Children provide great security."

He turned once more and drawled out, "Orrrr... maybe one of the infamous A-Team." he frowned. "Where's your pilot?"

Hannibal acted completely innocent. "Pilot?" He looked to B.A. "B.A., do we have a pilot?"

"In 'Nam, yeah," B.A. answered. "But here? Na!"

"Face?" Hannibal asked.

"Nope, I don't see any pilot."

Matt's glare tripled. "I know you have a pilot."

Hannibal just looked up at him. "Just like we know you have anger issues. And mental problems." He glanced at B.A.'s back as he flexed his wrists under the ropes. He could get them off... he was close! Just a little more time.

Face caught on and added, "Tell me, Matt, did you hate your father?"

"SHUT UP!" Matt fired a shot into the ceiling. "The first one out is YOU!" he thundered at Hannibal.

Hannibal shrugged. "Fine by me. Always wanted to sit down and talk with the big guy upstairs by the pearly gates."

Matt turned his back and B.A. strained once more against the ropes. Any second now-

and the front lobby windows and door were blasted to shards.

Everyone ducked or turned to watch as a helicopter hovered just outside the now destroyed entryway, a proud Murdock holding up a machine gun. And...

he had a passenger.

A thin person in military uniform held a gun and wore a makeshift belt laden with grenades. The helicopter hitch-hiker fired ten shots into the ground just inches from Matt's feet.

Hannibal laughed. "Oh, that pilot. Hi, Murdock!"

"Hiya, guys! This tea party appears to be quite the event. Hope we didn't crash it!"

The masked army man chuckled hoarsely. "I think a few more bullets couldn't hurt." They jumped from the skids and landed in a low crouch, firing the revolving door off its hinges. They stepped over the gas and up to Matt, gun touching the soft edge under his chin. "It's over."

"Aw, man!" Murdock wailed. "Ya broke all the fine china!"

Hannibal grinned, but watched the figure closely. Who-

Matt growled. "Just what makes you think you've won?! I still have all the hostages! I-"

B.A. threw off the blasted ropes and pounced on Matt, tackling him to the ground and grabbing his gun. In record time he and their newest ally had his men's guns shot from their hands. "I just took you down, sucka!" B.A. roared in Matt's ear as he slammed his body into the floor. "We shut you down, fool! YOU LOSE!"

Matt looked up as the other figure came to stand over him. Were they limping? Their gun was trained right on his chest. "Who are you?"

They reached up and ripped off the mask. The bank's occupants gasped, as did the law enforcement now gathering outside, guns trained on the scene.

Hannibal just grinned and Face shook his head, finally getting his ropes undone as well.

Matt's eyes grew to the size of saucers. "I-I killed you! I got my revenge!"

Ghost smirked, her face disturbingly pale beneath massive bruises and blood-crusted cuts. "I guess I just live up to my name."

Face undid Hannibal's ropes and both stood, B.A. moving away from Matt to start freeing hostages with the police and military. He grinned, still a bit on edge and jittery; close calls with death had that effect. "Glad you showed up."

"Really thought I'd skip town?" Ghost joked, coughing. "Nah. I'm here. I-"

Murdock, who'd landed the helicopter by plopping it in the street, and Face both rushed to grab Ghost as her legs gave out. "Kid?"

Everyone's attention left the handcuffed and hauled out crooks and turned to Ghost. One officer rushed over. "My God... she's alive." He and several others started checking out any injuries as she was gently laid on several jackets laid down by the shaken but relieved, and now concerned, hostages. "She's severely injured."

Ghost's head lolled, her semi-conscious state scaring everyone. Her eyes rolled listlessly and her lips moved with no sound. Her breathing was terrible and ragged, and the injuries the cops found caused more panic with every second. "She needs to get to the hospital."

Another cop frowned. "An' who you fixin' to pay for it? She ain't got no insurance! Kid's a thief!"

"This kid saved countless lives, you idiot!" the first cop retorted. "I'll pay for her care out of pocket if I have to!"

"You're just soft 'cause she helpin' you with yard work."

Hannibal grabbed the candid cop up and hauled him to his feet. "You ignorant son of a-"

"I'll pay for her care."

Everyone turned to the new voice. The local millionaire and hotel owner Jason Craz. He looked at the injured girl in dismay. Hannibal released the cop with a final death glare. "Kid's done a lot for me. Odd jobs, even a cleaning shift or two. Stopped a couple robberies at the hotel. Wouldn't let me pay her back."

A doctor who was among the hostages knelt down, his glasses sloppily thrown onto his face. "Let me look." He started helping them, his grimace only growing worse by the second.

Murdock looked around in a daze as others murmured about Ghost not being dead, about their mixed feelings towards her, and about her heroic actions today. Several others stepped forward, offering crisp bills from their recent paychecks to help in her care. An ambulance slammed to a stop outside and the shocked medics stormed in through the broken windows, stretcher ready. They acted quickly, bundling Ghost aboard the stretcher and whisking her away to the hospital.

Everyone stood in silence after they'd left. Even Matt and his men as they sat defeated in squad cars outside.

They hoped she would be alright.

* * *

 _-i'm late again! i'm sorry :( and sorry for any typos or mistakes :(_

 _the next chapter will be out by the end of the month! and... it's the last chapter. thank you all for the reviews and support! :)_


	24. Innocence

_-the last chapter is here! sorry the updates took longer on this story. i haven't been feeling so good, and with the new semester..._

 _sorry, guys :(_

 _i hope you enjoy the last chapter! :)_

* * *

Their mission was over.

And they'd gotten their money. (And then some...)

So why did Hannibal feel so on edge?

The A-Team sat in the hospital's waiting room, getting some looks of awe and curiosity and suspicion. They had six days left before they were full-fledged fugitives again.

Hannibal chuckled to himself; Decker was probably counting every second and cursing him and his team every hour on the hour.

Well, let him. They had more important things to attend to.

Ghost had to be taken in for multiple surgeries; aside from two broken ribs (among four cracked ones), her appendix had ruptured at some point. And with the concussion, sprained ankle, and dislocated shoulder, not to mention the severe bruising from Matt's ordered beating, the doctors were already on shaky ground.

Oh, and she was running a fever from several infected cuts, which wasn't helping anything.

The A-Team waited anxiously for any word on their young friend. Murdock sat with Ghost's book on King Arthur. He hadn't opened it, instead running his fingers nervously over its cover, over the worn edges and the faded gold lettering.

B.A. kept fidgeting, getting up and pacing around. He'd tried reading... that magazine was no longer in one piece.

Face kept staring into the floor. He didn't know what to do. He just wanted to hear the doctor say they could see her. Then he'd calm down... somewhat.

Hannibal was probably the most worried. His pokerface was one only his team could translate as worried. His chin rested on his gloved hand as he stared out the massive window before them. He wasn't really a religious man, but if someone like Ghost could have faith, maybe a quick prayer wouldn't hurt.

"The... A-Team?"

The four immediately jumped up, the others in the waiting room waiting in silence as the doctor, a forty-something year old man with blond hair holding a clipboard and pulling off his glasses. "Well..." he slowly smiled. "She'll be alright. Once we get her fever under control, she should start recovering much faster."

"The surgery?" one of them asked, none of them sure who.

"That went..." the doctor grimaced. "We almost lost her on the table, but that's because her fever spiked. In a week she should be able to leave, but the recovery time is going to be far longer. At least a month. And then there's also the fact that Ghost hasn't eaten decently in months. That has to change."

Hannibal nodded, in a bit of a daze. "We know someone she can stay with when she's released."

Face grinned. "Mrs. Watson would love to have her back."

The doctor started to navigate them through the halls to Ghost's room. "Now... there is the issue of her hospital bills. With no insurance, Ghost has run up a major bill. Thankfully she's got some friends."

"Friends?" Face inquired, still trying to sort out his thoughts.

"Yes. People have been donating to cover her bill. About fifteen thousand dollars now..."

Face sighed in both relief and guilt. They all felt the way he did. If they'd had to use their money to cover her bill, they would've in a heartbeat. But Ghost wasn't going to hang around in one place longer than she had to. And when she left Mrs. Watson's warm and loving home, she'd have nothing to return to.

Hannibal glanced at Face as they rounded a corner and nodded. Face smirked, then glanced at B.A. and Murdock, who both nodded.

Whatever mind link they had from being friends for so long... Face kinda liked it. Their own secret mental communication system-

great. Now he was thinking like Murdock.

The doctor palmed open the door to Ghost's room and whispered quickly, "She's probably going to sleep through your visit because of the medication. She should wake up some time tomorrow."

Hannibal nodded and they all stepped into the room; none of them would admit it, but their hearts were in their throats from worry.

Ghost looked as white as the bed sheets, her dark hair combed and neat, no tangles in her long locks. Every bruise and bandage fanned the flames of the A-Team's blazing anger as they took in the band-aids, cuts, oxygen mask, and the scars from years past. Her face was slightly scrunched in pain, even with the meds racing through her body.

B.A. growled. "I still wanna bash Matt's face in."

"Me too," Murdock spat.

"Count me in," added Hannibal and Face at the same time.

Ghost groaned in her sleep and they stopped just short of cursing out Matt. Murdock sighed. "I guess it's more important that she's alive."

"After all she's been through?" Face pulled over a chair and sat down, resting his elbows on the bed. "It's a miracle."

Hannibal sat on the other side of the bed, cringing as Ghost moaned, mumbling something into the mask that fogged it over. He pulled off his cold leather glove and gently brushed several strands of hair from her face. He grinned. "Guys, we have some phone calls to make…"

* * *

True to the doctor's word, Ghost woke up the next day.

Murdock immediately jumped off the bed, waking the team from their exhausted stupor. They'd been busy! "Guys, she's awake!"

Ghost grinned, the missing oxygen mask a great relief for everyone. "Hey," she rasped, coughing. She winced and went to grab right where the bandages were. "What-"

"Easy." Hannibal jumped up and helped her to sip a glass of water that Face held. She looked up at him for an explanation. "You, among many other injuries, managed to have your appendix rupture."

"Yay." She closed her eyes momentarily and took a deep breath. Well, as deep as her aching ribs would allow.

Face glared a little, crossing his arms. It was really hard for him to be mad at Ghost. "Why didn't you stay at Mrs. Watson's?"

Ghost's eyes opened, revealing dull irises. The green was gone, a pallid grey hiding any color. "You needed help."

"Not at the cost of your life!"

"You're right." Ghost coughed again. "It would've been at the cost of those hostages' lives."

Face fell silent. They all did. After all, she was right.

Ghost frowned. "Um… aren't you guys not supposed to be out in plain sight? Where… where MP's can get you?"

Hannibal grinned. "We got a week off from being hunted down."

"Yes, because you happen to be a brilliant negotiator," Face muttered.

Ghost smiled. "I wish you guys didn't have to live like this…"

B.A. moved forward and exchanged his uncomfortable slab of a chair for the end of the hospital bed. "We could say th' same for you."

"I… I'm used to it." Hannibal gave Ghost more water and she whispered a "thank you". She looked so tired… they knew they had to cut this short.

"You shouldn't be." Murdock's sad statement hit Ghost hard, but she was almost asleep. "Just rest, okay?" He patted her shoulder and pulled a quilt from one of the nurses (she'd dropped it off as a gift) up over Ghost. She was asleep in a moment.

Hannibal looked around at his friends. "We gotta get to work." And they quietly left the hospital room, Murdock staying behind for a minute as he smiled at Ghost. "I wish you could come back to the V.A. with me. It gets lonely… and you're a really awesome kid. They only use the electroshock if you're annoying, and the medication isn't hard to skip. You could just stay in my room and play video games and help take care of my dog Billy. He…" Murdock swallowed. "He'd really like to be your friend." He glanced out the open door. "I'll be back soon, Ghost. I… I hope that after we get run outta town… that you don't forget about us. I know we won't forget about you."

And with that he left, quietly shutting the hospital door.

* * *

The last day was here.

And with only ten minutes left, the A-Team stood anxiously outside the hospital, waiting. Ghost had been released an hour ago, and Mrs. Watson and Mr. Hilbert had showed up to take her with them. Nathan Hilbert promised he'd make sure Ghost stuck around and recovered, saying quietly that Mrs. Watson was a little too old to have stopped Ghost from leaving.

Face was fidgeting, pacing in small circles. "I can feel it. Decker's nearby."

"But," Hannibal checked his watch. Eight minutes. "He's not here."

"Doesn't mean he ain't nearby," B.A. grumbled lightly.

Hannibal nodded. "I know. But we're not leaving here with unfinished business." He glanced over his shoulder. "I think-"

"Whoa! Awesome car!"

All four men, and Tawnia, who'd met up with them again after working with different people in the city to pull off… something, grinned. Ghost's eyes were wide, taking in a grey and black Corvette parked by the curb. Ghost, seated in a wheelchair and being pushed by Nathan, looked far better than she had when the A-Team first met her. Her color was slowly returning, and she had gained a whole three pounds… not much, but the doctors said it was improvement.

Face jingled the keys in his hand. "That Vette? It's yours." He tossed Ghost the keys and she held them in awe.

Murdock grinned and knelt by her. "Yep. It's all yours! And it goes somewhere very special."

Ghost looked a little confused until Hannibal clarified, "You may or may not have a new place waiting for you."

Nathan picked up the explanation. "The city pulled together funds to buy you a house by us. It's right next to Mrs. Watson, and as soon as you're well, you can move in on your own. And we'll be right there for you if you need anything."

Mrs. Watson smiled sweetly, watching Ghost's shocked face with tears threatening to fall. "The house also has a room filled with art supplies for you. It's furnished and ready for you when you feel up to it."

Ghost looked at the keys in her hands, hardly daring to believe what everyone was saying. "You… I don't deserve all this. I-"

"If anyone deserves it," Tawnia spoke up, "it's you, Ghost."

Hannibal smirked. Five minutes. They were gonna tick off Decker so bad. "And we pulled some strings…" He handed her a wallet with a driver's liscense. "Face thought this name suited you pretty well."

Ghost felt a tear fall as she stared at the driver's license. How they pulled this off she'd never know. But her name…

Alexandria Ghost Jordan…

"Thanks." She wiped away the tears and laughed. "You really don't understand how much this… this means to me. Thank you-" she cut short. "Face!"

Face walked closer as Ghost felt around in her pocket. "Yeah, Alex?" he tested out her name.

Ghost grinned, as did everyone else. She held something out to him and he took it. "I owed you another dollar."

Face wasn't sure what she meant at first, but as he unfolded the crinkled single in his hands… "You were the one at the diner?!"

Ghost shrugged sheepishly. "Yeah. No one ever stood up for me like that. Thanks."

Face pocketed the bill. "No problem."

Hannibal checked his watch. "One minute, guys."

A quick group hug followed, Murdock releasing Ghost last as she whispered, "I'll come visit you sometime." Murdock smiled tearfully at her as they all jumped into B.A.'s van-

"SMITH!"

And there was Decker.

The A-Team's burn out led to them flying down 29th Street, Decker and his men shooting from three MP cars.

Ghost looked over at the one cop walking by who'd stopped to watch the chase. His gun holster was right there… just a foot away... if she was quick enough...

She quickly undid the holder and grabbed the gun, the cop glancing over in shock as she aimed and fired twice-

and Decker's car stopped, two tires drained of their air.

Mrs. Watson and Nathan didn't hold back their laughter as Decker jumped from his car, cursing as Hannibal's shots took out the other two cars. B.A. whipped the van around in a U-turn and they drove past the hospital, waving to Ghost as Hannibal shouted, "Thanks for the save, Ghost!"

Ghost grinned and handed the gun back to the still-shocked cop. "Anytime!" she yelled back, smiling at the Vette waiting just feet away. She watched until they disappeared down the street. "Thank you… for everything."

* * *

 _-and that's it! wow, thank you guys for all the support! i didn't expect much of a response when i started this because it was just a random idea._

 _the story title and chapter titles are from Greek Fire's song "Top of the World"._

 _thank you all and God bless!_


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